


The Inquisition

by Emerald_Goddess



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Game of Thrones-esque, Long, Multi, Novelization, Very long!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 85
Words: 230,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Goddess/pseuds/Emerald_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Breach threatens to destroy the world, the Chantry is gone, the Divine dead. And I'm the one caught in the middle of it all. The mark on my hand is the only thing that can save the world, but it may well be the thing that destroys it. Branded the Herald of Andraste, isn't only a blessing, but a curse. Everyone is looking to me for help, and I can only pray I can make it through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of an adventure. Chapter numbers are all out of whack because of the prologue!

Green mist swirls around me. Hard rock beneath me. A flash of green close to me. I groan and push myself to my hands and knees. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I pause, trying to gather my strength. I can taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth, but what from, I’ve no clue.

      I can’t make anything out in the green, hazy mist. It’s too thick to see through.

      But there’s a light… something is shining at the top of a flight of stairs. I’m blinded for a second but I can make out a figure… a person.

      My legs move on their own accord… I begin walking towards the figure.

      Green mist swirls around me and all I can do is keep moving, my eyes glued on the flight of stairs.

      I don’t know how long I’ve been walking for… but it doesn’t seem too long. The stairs stretch out before me. I’ve got no choice but to climb them.

      I hear a squeal behind me, followed by more. Spinning, I can make out five bodies rushing towards me. Bodies with eight legs and seven eyes.

      I scramble, tripping on a stone step. But I manage to heave myself up and continue up the stairs, getting away from the giant spiders.

      My throat closes up…

      _Spiders. Anything but spiders._

      I run, not daring to look back. The figure is shining a brilliant yellow and I keep my eyes on it. Its hand is outstretched, reaching for me.

      The steps are steep and my boots slip on the rock, unable to gain purchase. I try not to think about falling to my death.

      I stretch my hand, trying to reach for the shining figure.

      I can hear the spiders behind me, hear my heart thumping against my ribcage, ready to explode.

      A green light swirls from my hand and my eyes widen. But before I can figure out what it is, my finger touch the figure’s.

      A flash of white light blinds me and I’m thrown through the air.

      I don’t know where I am. In bed? In the library? Probably in the kitchen.

      Darkness swirls across my vision, through my mind. I can hear footsteps and look up to find myself lying on the ground, around me a destroyed building.

      My eyes are heavy, my brain scattered. I can’t form a single thought.

      A few soldiers surround me, but my vision darkens and I fall into a sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. This is my first fic on here, so I'm kinda glad to get the prologue done and dusted. It doesn’t seem very exciting now does it?? But please bear with me!! I’m hoping to make this as awesome as the franchise already is! I’d like to warn thee that this story shall contain a lot of dialogue and scenes from the game (but along with many scenes I manage to make up myself). I own none of the characters in the series, but my Inquisitor. I’d also like to point out that I really want to take a Game of Thrones approach to the story: a long high fantasy style—essentially a novelization of the game. Ha. Hopefully it all works out!


	2. Chapter 1

The air is cold when I awaken. I’m kneeling on a stone ground, my wrists bound in heavy iron chains.

_Am I in a cell? Did I steal one too many sweets from the kitchen? Surely not, Mother would never chain me._

      Metal bars surround me, the only light coming from a few small candles mounted on the wall. Above me, more metal bars. I blink, visions of the glowing figure and the spiders come floating through my mind.

      _What had happened? Where am I now?_

      My wrist is throbbing and I turn it palm up. A large cut is on the skin of my palm and I swallow back bile. But, it just doesn’t seem like a normal cut…

      That’s when green light flashes from my palm. I grunt in pain, clenching my fists, trying to make it stop.

      The door in front of me is kicked open, figures standing in the door way. The pain in my hand stops and the light fades.

      Three guards surround me, their swords drawn.

      _I’m not at home…_ I realise with sudden fear.

      A woman, hooded behind her light armour watches me. A strand of orange hair falls into her face and she quickly tucks it behind her ear.

      The other woman, with short black hair walks towards me. Her sword is also drawn—an obviously trained warrior. A scar runs down her cheek and I can’t help but wonder how she managed to get that. She’s dressed in heavy armour, ready to fight by the looks of her.

      Her unblinking grey eyes travel along my facial tattoos. Something that the Trevelyan family take pride in. We’re not as good as the Dalish Elves, but we certainly have a skill with ink.

      A simple faded black ink that dotted under my right eye with a line travelling from the bridge of my nose to my collar bones.  

      The woman stops behind me and I can’t see her anymore.

      “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” comes a voice. Her Nevarran accent is strong.

      I jerk her voice startling me, the chains on my wrists clinking together.

      Her lips are a few centimeters from my ear, her breath against my cheek. I turn my head slightly and see her straighten.

      “The Conclave… it’s destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead,” she faces me again, inches away from me, as if to scare me. Her eyes are still burning. “Except for you.”

      I blink, unable to understand what is happening, “What…” my throat is dry. I cough and try again. “What do you mean? Everybody’s dead?”

      The warrior reaches down and yanks my hand up, “Explains this.”

      My hand explodes in a green light, my palm itching again. She throws my hand away and the glow disappears. Just like before.

      “I don’t know what it is. I can’t explain it,” I say.

      “What do you mean?” she hisses.

      My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how it got there.” My voice is raised slightly and it echoes throughout the cell.

      The woman grabs hold of my armour, “You’re lying.”

      There’s nothing I can do, the crazy warrior looks pissed. And in the light, I see how pronounced her jaw line is. And how high her cheek bones are. She looks as though she’s about to slap me, when the hooded woman pushes her away.

      “We need her, Cassandra.” I can’t see her face behind her hood. She looks back at me, the warrior standing close behind her.

      I swallow, trying to get my voice back, “All those people are dead?”

      The orange-haired woman looks down at me, her eyes pleading, “Do you remember anything? What had happened? How all this began?”

      I shake my head, “All I can remember are these things chasing me. And then a woman appeared… but that’s all.”

      No matter how hard I try, I can’t reach the memories of what happened before that. Searching my thoughts, I try clutching at the wisps of memories, but they fade when I will them to become clearer.

      “A woman?”

      I nod, “She reached out for me but then…” I swallow. “Everything turned black.”

      The armoured woman—Jaw Line— turns back to the orange-haired one, “Go to the Forward Camp, Leliana.”

      “But what will you do?”

      “I’ll take her to the Rift.”

      A silent understanding passes between the two women and I shift uncomfortably. The one called Leliana turns and leaves the cell, with one last glance at me.

      Jaw Line bends down and grabs my chains, unlocking them.

      I watch her, “What did happen at the Conclave?”

      The woman glances at me. I rub my wrists, the skin raw from the cuffs.

      I see her eyes cloud over, “It will be better to show you.” She holds out her hand and I take it. With surprising strength, she helps me to my feet. Wrapping rope around my wrists, all hopes of freedom banish from my mind.

      We walk from the cell and I shield my eyes from the brightness. After being in the dark cell for Maker knows how long, the sunlight is blinding.

      Blinking away the spots in my eyes, it’s only now that I notice the sky is tinged with green. My mouth opens in shock as I take in the hole. Like the sky itself has been ripped open, a massive hole swirls in cloudy sky. Green light spews from it, twisting down behind the mountain ranges. Giant rocks float in the air, some twirling in the wind.

      “We call it the Breach,” comes the woman’s voice. She stands next to me, watching the sky. “It’s a massive Rift into the world of demons. It grow larger if every passing hour.” She looks at me, “It’s not the only Rift. But it’s the biggest. And… and all were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

      “An explosion did _that_?”

      “Well, this one did. And unless we act now, the Breach will grow until it swallows the whole world.”

      An explosion rocks the ground and we both turn to see the Breach lighting up, green mist spreading from the hole like lightning.

      A stab of pain cuts through my palm and I scream as my hand is pulled towards the Breach. My knees give out and I crumble to the snowy ground, trying to stop my hand from moving. I clench my fist shut, cursing.

      The pain slowly ebbs away and Jaw Line kneels down in front of me, eyes as cold as her blade, “Each time that Breach expands, the mark on your hand spreads. It’s… it’s slowly killing you.”

      “Killing me?”

      She looks away for a split second, “It may be the only way to stop all this. But there isn’t much time.”

      I try to grasp this whole situation, but everything is happening too fast. I feel my lip quiver, “I understand. I’ll do what I can.”

      The woman’s face softens and she stands, helping me to my feet again. With a firm hand on the small of my back, she ushers me through a small encampment. Various people mill around the village, refugees maybe, or just people looking for protection from that Breach. When we walk past, they all stop and stare. If the woman’s hand wasn’t on the small of my back, I would have run back to that cell.

      I blink. It’s not that I’m not used to having people stare at me—being a Trevelyan was no small spotlight. I attended many parties and meetings with other noble families.

      But it’s the way everyone here is looking at me. Like I’m some kind of monster… and maybe I am the monster.

      “They’ve… decided your guilt for themselves,” says Jaw Line. “They need it.”

      I glance at the soldiers, the elves, the mages. Everyone has already decided I’m guilty. But for what exactly? I don’t remember.

      “The people of Haven mourn the loss of our Most Holy, Divine Justinia. She was Head of the Chantry, the Conclave was her idea.” There is a deep sadness in her voice and I can’t help but feel my heart swell in sadness. “It was a chance to make peace between the mages and Templars.”

      I walk in silence beside her.

      “She had brought the leaders together. But… but now they’re dead.”

      Jaw Line takes me to a huge wooden gate. The soldiers standing guard nod their heads at the woman and open the gate. The wood groans and slowly opens.

      We walk along a bridge, busy with activity. More soldiers take guard, some watching the Breach is wonder, others in fear.

      There is a tense air about this place. Everyone seems to be on edge, grabbing at their weapons for every noise. More soldiers pack supplies into barrels, stocking up. None glance our way.

      Jaw Line stops me with a hand on my wrist and pulls a knife from her back pocket. Sliding the sharp blade across the ropes tied around my wrists, they’re finally free.

      I flex my fingers and roll my wrists.

      “Come, it is not far,” says Jaw Line, turning to continue across the bridge.

      “Where are you taking me exactly?”

      “Your mark. It must be tested on something smaller than the Breach, so we know it works.” She keeps walking and I run to catch up to her.

       We reach the next set of gates, “Open the gates, we’re headed into the valley,” yells Jaw Line. Shouting seems to be something she enjoys doing. Probably because of her massive jaw line.

      And with that thought swirling in my already muddled mind, we head into the unknown.

 

     

     

       

 

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t sure if Cassandra has a bigger jaw line or bigger cheek bones—I decided both, but had to come up with one nickname!! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	3. Chapter 2

The Breach lights up the sky ahead of us as we walk along the snowy path. It’s cold, but my armour is an appropriate thickness to keep me warm.

      The two of us walk silently, but I notice Jaw Line keeps a wary hand on the hilt of her blade.

      “I never introduced myself,” I say.

      Jaw Line’s eyes flick away from the Breach, “Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.”

      _Not Jaw Line then._

      “Lydia Trevelyan.”

      A slight nod from Cassandra is all I get.

      An icy wind sends a shiver down my spine and I tug my collar closer to my neck.

      Soldiers posted on the barriers run back towards the safety of the gate and to be honest, I wish I could do the same.

      The sight of the broken sky is enough to send anyone back to the safety of the gates. But is anywhere truly safe from this thing? Maker, it could destroy the world.

      A few ways up the path, something green shoots from the Breach and sail down towards the ground. Like some kind of green comet, it smashes into the snow and dissolves, melting snow around it.

      Pain flares along my hand yet again, sending a tingle through my arm. I clutch my hand and crumble to the soft snow, screaming through clenched teeth. There’s no way I’m going to get used to the pain.

      Cassandra comes to my side, not an ounce of concern on her face. Maybe her jaw line doesn’t allow it.

      I cough, trying to calm my beating heart, as the pain fades.

      She stops me with two firm hands on my shoulders, “Those pulses, they’re coming faster now.”

      I nod, sucking air through my teeth.

      “The larger this Breach grows, the more Rifts appear and the more demons we face.”

      Pushing my legs into action, we continue along the path, walking as fast as my legs will allow.

      “How?” I swallow, clearing my dry throat. “How did I survive the blast? Everyone else is dead but me.”

      Cassandra considers the question for a few seconds as we come to another bridge, with few scouts patrolling it.

      “They said you… stepped out of a Rift,” her voice is emotionless, but there is sadness in her eyes. “Then you fell unconscious. They say there was a woman in the Rift behind you, but no one could see who she was.”

      More comets spew from the Breach, falling down to Earth.

      I blink as one lands close to us, but Cassandra urges me to continue across the bridge.

      A whistling sound stops me as a comet crashes into the middle of the bridge, slamming into scouts.

      I wheel back in fright, as the foundations of the bridge crumble beneath my feet. Trying to scramble away from the collapsing bridge, I’m caught as the bricks fall underneath me.

      My stomach drops and I hear Cassandra let out a scream as we tumble to the ice below. My back hits the stone debris and I bounce onto the ice.

      Coldness sweeps through my armour as I lift my head with a groan.

      The Breach pulses and a comet slams into the ice lake in front of me. Cracks whip out across the ice surface, but it holds, thank the Maker.

      I scramble to my feet, Cassandra also struggling to stand. A green crystal-like substance forms on the ice and emerging from it, a demon.

      Grandma Elissa used to tell stories of fade demons and the Void. I loved listening to her late at night, with the fire crackling and my brothers and sisters huddled together as Grandma spoke. Mother hated how Grandma scared us. It was the adventure that I loved.

      But to see a demon in real life is scarier than any of the stories Grandma could come up with.

      It’s dirty, brown body is massive, it’s head shrouded under a thick plate of skin. All I can see is one white eye.

      “Stay behind me,” yells Cassandra, unsheathing her sword and positioning her shield.

      Before I can protest, she runs towards the demon. She could probably cut the demon in half with her jaw line.

      The ice in front of me begins the bubble, black and frothy. I step back and realise another demon is spawning.

      My eyes flick to the broken barrels and wooden crates, searching for any weapon. A glint in the sunlight stops me and I see two daggers resting in the broken remains of a crate.

      Desperately, I lunge at the weapons, snatching them up, just as the demon emerges from the green mist.

      The demon screeches at me, but I twirl the two daggers in my hands like a challenge.

      I leap towards the demon as its long arms reach for me. Twisting, I manage to run the tip of a blade along the creature’s back. It screeches and whips a fist into my shoulder.

      I jerk and stumble, only just missing its next attack.

      Swinging both of my blades towards the demon, I slice through its stomach. As is slides backwards, I thrust a dagger into its head.

      With one final breath, it dissolves into green muck.

      I stumble and catch my breath, trying to stop panic from clouding my mind.

      When I look up, Cassandra sinks her blade into the first demon’s head.

      Walking over to her, the thought of falling through the ice crosses my mind, but I keep it down.

      “It’s over…” I say, glancing back at the goo on the ground.

      A cold blade tip presses against my throat and I flinch as Cassandra snarls, “Drop your weapons. Now.”

      I feel my lip quiver, “Alright. Have it your way.”

      Cassandra’s face softens and she nods slightly, removing the tip from my throat. “Wait, I cannot protect you from every monster. And I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” She turns away from me, “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.”

      She continues up a small hill and I have to yet again run to catch up. I’m just glad we’re away from the ice.

      “We head to the Forward Camp. It’s where all my soldiers are,” she says. Glancing at me, a puff of mist escapes her lips, mingling with the frigid air. “We are on our own for now.”

      Once again we fall into silence as we traverse the snowy valley.

      Each step, I watch the snowflakes settle on the ground, wracking my brain to find something to say.

      Something comes to my mind and I glance at Cassandra, “That’s a nice sword you’ve—”

       A flash of fear crosses the warrior’s face, “Get down.”

      Roughly, Cassandra pushes me down, my face hitting the soft snow. I grunt, but Cassandra shushes me.

      “There are two more demons down there,” she hisses.

      I swallow, “You distract them while I sneak up behind them.”

      Cassandra’s eyes flick to me, considering the tactic. By the way her brow furrows and her mouth sets into a scowl, she doesn’t trust me.

      “It’s the only thing we’ve got, Cassandra,” I plead.

      After a few long seconds she nods, “Ugh. You’re right.”

      I look around, “Alright, on the count of three…”

      Cassandra leaps from her spot in the snow and bolts towards the demons, not even remotely concerned about the ice she now runs on.

      I blink, “I said on the _count_ of three… I hadn’t even started counting yet.”

      Cassandra roars at the demons and they both twirl to face her, screeching. I jump down from the small crest I stand on, coming in behind the demons as Cassandra leads them back up the way she ran.

      My boots land on the ice and cracks snake outwards. I quench a shriek and run towards the demons who are now slapping Cassandra’s shield with their long arms.

      I slide the daggers from the belts across my back—a make-shift sheath—and slash at the surprised demon.

      Let’s just say my ability to sneak is at an all-time high. It must have been all the games of hide and seek, which my brother dubbed Mages and Templars.

      The demon wheels back and with another hit, it whines and melts to goo. Cassandra slashes and blocks a hit, while I try to cut the demon’s legs… well I wouldn’t call them legs. More like a tail that they slide around on.

      It shrinks back, trying to block all of our attacks. But it’s outmatched and soon the demon is just a pile of goo on the ground, like his friend. Or her friend.

      Cassandra gives me a look, “Well done. Who taught you to fight?”

      “My Uncle,” I say with a flick of my dagger. “He loved using these.”

      Cassandra just sheaths her weapon and keeps walking.

      I sigh quietly and wipe the demon guts from my blade before catching up with her.

      Something solid lies in the middle of the path and I squint to see what it is.

      “A body,” mutters Cassandra. “There are plenty around now. The wolves will get to them.”

      “If the demons don’t first.”

      As we walk past the body, I nice two dagger hilts protruding from the body.

      Kneeling down next to the body, I push it onto its back, not daring to look at its face. Attached to the body’s torso is a sheath, crossed over its back.

      I start playing with the latches, but my fingers are almost numb.

      Cassandra kneels down next to me and manages to pull the sheath off with ease, “Here, this will make sure your weapons don’t fall out.”

      I nod in thanks and put the sheath on. Its chest strap has intricate golden vines snaking their way up the brown leather, meeting with a larger design on both the sheaths on my back.

      “A fine piece of craftsmanship,” comments Cassandra. “Come, we must hurry.”

      I glance at the ice beneath our feet. Images of fallen in and being trapped in the freezing water invade my mind.

      “The ice is thick,” comes Cassandra’s distant voice.

      Looking up, I see Cassandra already ahead of me, scanning her surroundings.

      I go to run, but think better of it with the ice, no matter how thick it is, “Wait for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh… Bless Cassandra. I really wouldn’t know where Dragon Age would be without her. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to review—good or bad—I’m always willing to improve my writing.


	4. Chapter 3

I try not to look at the bruise on my hand, but it’s kind of hard, considering how big it is. Rubbing it, I tug my sleeve back down and clench my fist. We had come across quite a few demons on our way, but now they’re all piles of goo.

      “We’re getting closer to the Rift. You can hear the fighting,” says Cassandra, her face impassive.

      But she is right. Clangs of metal and arrows flying can be heard, as well as the grunts and shrieks of demons.

      “Who’s fighting?” I ask.

      “You’ll see soon. We must help them.”

      I pick up my pace, taking the stairs two at a time, Cassandra beside me.

      Reaching the top of the stairs, we come to a small ruined fort. Fires burn, destroying carriages and barrels, the snow not cold enough the put the flames out. Demons slap at the scouts and people who look like refugees. Green ghost-like creatures skit around the outskirts of the battle, throwing green energy at the scouts. Grandma told us about those creatures in various stories as well—they’re Shades if I remember correctly.

      Everything the Breach throws at us seems to be green.

      A burst of energy hits me from behind and I stumble, nearly face planting into the snow.

      Cassandra hauls me back up and charges to the nearest Shade, drawing their attention to her. A bolt of ice shoots into a Shade and I turn to see an Elven mage spinning his staff in an intricate dance. I twist away from another burst of energy, driving my blade into a Shade. It dissipates into a black mist.

      That’s when I see it.

      This crystal-like structure just floating in the air, shifting and changing. Long spires of crystal form then disappear, but it always gives out a green glow.

      I peel my eyes away from crystal and focus on the fight. I run towards the nearest ground of fighters, fighting a demon. A steel bolt pierces right through the demon’s glowing eye and I hear a “Bull’s-eye” from somewhere behind me.

      While the demon’s distracted with the bolt stuck in its eye, I thrust my blade into its throat, making it explode into goo.

      The Elven mage strides towards me and grabs hold of my wrist. He glances at the scar on my palm, “Quickly, before more demons come through.” And before I can do anything, he shoves my hand towards the glowing crystal, which sparks and expands. My palm itches again and a bolt of pain stabs through my hand, green light shining from the scar. The crystal explodes into dust, disappearing.

      I look at the mage, “What did you just do?”

      The mage, who by now I’ve noticed has a really bald and shiny head, gestures to me, “ _I_ did nothing. The credit is all yours.”

      “Well… whatever I did…” I glance at my hand, “At least this is good for something.”

      “Whatever magic opened the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark may be able to close the Rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake—and well, it seems I was correct.” 

      My palm glows faintly, the pain gone.

      Cassandra stands next to me, “Meaning that it could also close the Breach.”

      The bald elf nods slightly, “Possibly.” He looks to me, “It seems you could hold the key to our salvation.”

      “Well then, that’s great to know. I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” comes a gruff voice. I turn to see a dwarf fixing his gloves. His blonde hair is tied in a short ponytail. The dwarf’s choice of clothing looks very intentional. His tunic is unbuttoned halfway down, showing off his slightly hairy, but muscular chest. A large crossbow is slung over his shoulder and I blink, astonished at how well the weapon has been forged.

      He walks towards me, a smile tugging at his lips, “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” His eyes flick to Cassandra and he winks at her. The warrior’s response is a scowl, which seems to be her permanent expression. But there _is_ something trusting about her.

      “Lydia Trevelyan: rogue, reader and occasional Rift closer,” I say with a smile.

      Varric’s smile widens to a grin and his nods in what I’m hoping is approval.

      “It’s nice to meet you Varric,” I add. “Are you with the Chantry?”

      The bald elf laughs, “Is that a serious question?”

      _Well, I thought it was._

      Varric smiles, “Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you.”

      “You were brought here to tell your story to the Divine. I had made that clear. Now, that seems like it’s no longer necessary.”

      “Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events,” he gestures to the Breach.

      “Absolutely not,” orders Cassandra. “Your help is appreciated Varric, but…”

      “Have you been in the Valley recently, Seeker? Last time I checked, there were a bunch of demons roaming around. You’re soldiers aren’t in control anymore, you need me.”

      I swallow, trying to not to interfere with the obvious tension going on between the two. Like ex-lovers or something.

      Cassandra just turns away, “Ugh.”

      I glance at her, but the elf steps forward, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

      “Ah, me too,” I say.

      Varric chuckles, “He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’.”

      I’m shocked that this elf, who didn’t know me in anyway was helping keep me alive. Especially considering I was known as a prisoner. I’m genuinely touched by his generosity, “Then I owe you my thanks,” I say.

      Solas smiles, “Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.” He turns to Cassandra, obviously not concerned about what he just said, “Cassandra, the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult for any mage to have such power.”

      Cassandra nods, “Understood. We must reach the Forward Camp quickly.”

      She starts walking, Solas following closely behind. Varric strolls forward, “Well, at least Bianca’s excited.”

      I frown, unsure of who this Bianca is.

      Cassandra’s voice floats back up to me, “This way, down the bank. The road is blocked.”

      I follow after them, glad to have a few more people to watch my back as we traverse through the valley infested with demons.

 

+++

 

Cassandra’s sword slices through the last of the demons, ice cracking beneath her boots. The cracks shoot outwards, disappearing under my own boots.

      “Have I mentioned I’m not very good when it comes to standing on ice,” I say, scanning my surroundings.

      Varric looks down, “I’m glad dwarves are a little lighter.”

      Cassandra grunts, “With that chest hair, I wouldn’t be too sure.”

      Varric looks at me, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

      “Good one,” I mutter.

      Solas and Cassandra walk towards the stone stairs on the other side of the frozen river, while Varric and I struggle with our fears of drowning in freezing water.

      The dwarf seems like a nice enough guy, his jokes are certainly needed in times like these and he’s really the only one that’s accepted me so far. The others still believe I’m guilty for what has happened.

      Yet, I could actually be the one who opened the Breach. I just don’t remember.

_No, surely I’m not the one who did this._

      Finally leaping the last step, my boots hit soft snow and I scramble up to the others, Varric close behind. More wooden houses burn in the snow, the occupants hopefully far away from this valley.

      The four of us continue up the stairs, sticking close to each other.

      “So… are you innocent?” asks Varric.

      Sighing, I turn my head to eye the dwarf, “I don’t remember what happened.”

      “That’ll get ya every time,” he says, a slight teasing tone in his voice. “You should have spun a story.”

      “That’s what you would have done,” says Cassandra.

      “It’s more believable that way. And less prone to result in premature execution.”

      A smile forms on my lips.

      “We’re almost at the Forward Camp,” says Solas.

      We come around a corner just as a green comet lands in the snow near us. A closed gate looms before us, but a Rift hovers in front of it, dashing my hopes of safety. Scouts trying to hold their position from the demons, but I can see their swings are becoming slower and softer, tiring with each hit.  

      “Another Rift,” yells Cassandra, pointing at the green crystal hovering just before the wooden gates.

      “We must seal it! Quickly!” orders Solas, whipping his staff out and shooting a demon with an ice blast.

      I unsheathe my blades and move with Cassandra. A Shade shoots a burst of green energy and I spin, madly trying to duck the attack. Cassandra holds out her shield and the energy hits the metal, making Cassandra stumble. She grunts, but seems unhurt.

      “Hurry,” yells Solas. “Use the mark.”

      I scramble towards the Rift and hold out my hand, the scar burning in pain. The Rift contracts and spews green light.

      I throw my hand away from the Rift and it breaks into tiny fragments before turning to dust. Hopefully it will never open again.

      “The Rift is gone,” Cassandra says to the guards standing by the gates, “Open them.”

      “Right away Lady Cassandra.” The guards do as they’re told and push the heavy doors open, allowing us to enter.

        _Lady_ Cassandra nods in thanks.

      “We are clear for the moment. Well done,” says Solas as we walk through the gates.

      The bridge ahead of us is full of scouts and guards. Supply wagons are placed across the bridge, while barricades protect the people from incoming green comets. Some scouts watch our surroundings, keeping an eye on the Breach, while others attend to the wounded. I can hear snatches of conversations, but two people catch my eyes. The man leans over a table, dressed in Chantry robes, a hood covering his neck and head.

      “We will do no such thing.”                                                                                         

      “The prisoner must get to the temple of Sacred Ashes, it is our only chance,” the woman’s voice is familiar and when I look closer, I work out why. She was the other woman who stood in the cell with Cassandra. Leliana… I think her name is.

      We continue towards the couple and the Chantry bureaucrat looks up, noticing our approach.

      “Ah, here they come,” he says. His voice is whiney and high.

      Leliana steps forward, “You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is—”

      “I _know_ who she is,” he snaps. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

      My blood runs cold and I take a small step back.

      Cassandra’s eyebrows shoot up and she steps forward, “Order me? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat.”

      “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry,” retorts Roderick.

      I may not know Cassandra a whole lot, but one thing I took from her very strong jaw line, cheek bones that could cut my throat and the fire burning in her eyes, is to never upset her. Well, it seems this bureaucrat just has.

      Her eyes flash and a fist is clenched.

      Leliana pushes in, “We serve the most Holy, Chancellor. You should know that.”

      Roderick throws his airs in the air, “Justinia is dead. We must elect a replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter.”

      “Hey, wait,” I say. “Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue right now?’

      Roderick’s eyes flash, “You brought this on in the first place. This your fault.”

      Cassandra leans forward, the only thing protecting the Chancellor is the flimsy wooden table. Her face is inches from his.

      But he stands his ground, “Call off a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

      “We can stop this before it’s too late.”

      Roderick laughs, desperation etched in his face, “How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.”

      “We must get to the temple, it’s the quickest route.” Neither one is backing down.

      “But not the safest,” contests Leliana. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.” She points to a distant mountain range, shrouded into the light fall of snow. The mist clouds the top of the mountain, but it looks high. And scary.

      “We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky,” says Cassandra.

      “Listen to me,” says the Chancellor. “Abandon this now before more live are lost.”

      A boom rocks the valley as the Breach expands, shooting green lightning across the sky. More green comets spew from the Breach, crashing into the Earth below. One comet smashes through a tree, the trunk breaking in half. I see the canopy tip, leaves start on fire and branches snapping. The top half of the tree crashes into the snow below. I swallow, as one lone bird flutters desperately away from its broken nest.

      Pain rips through my palm and once again my hand is pulled towards the Breach on its own accord—like a magnet.

      I try pushing my hand down, but the pull is too powerful. Just as quickly as it lit up, the light vanishes, the Breach itself returning to its normal world-destroying self. And the pain fades.

      Cassandra turns to me, “How do you think we should proceed.”

      I blink, my eyes watching her face for any signs of mocking. But no, the warrior really does seem to want my opinion. Her hard eyes watch me, waiting for my input.

      “I… ah,” I clear my throat. “I say we charge. I won’t survive long enough for your trail… so whatever happens, happens now.”

      Cassandra’s face softens and a small smile comes to her lips. She nods in approval and turns to Leliana, “Bring everyone left in the Valley. Everyone.”

      And with that, she’s on her way across the bridge again, Solas and Varric walking close to her.

      “On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” comes Roderick’s voice as I pass him.

      I watch for Cassandra’s reaction, but she just keeps moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	5. Chapter 4

We trek up the snowy mountain, each one of us numb in our fingers and toes. My breath swirls out in front of me and I feel as though it’s freezing to my nose. We may have bypassed the actual mountain trek by charging straight though, but it’s still cold up here. And high. And scary.

      I can see the green light twisting down, reaching where the Conclave was held before it was destroyed. Green comets are more frequent here and the four of us keep a look out so none crash into us.

      Soldiers run with us, carrying swords and shields, ready to fight.

      We get to an abandoned fortress, with bricks scattered in the snow, wooden supports broken and soldiers lying dead. I avert my gaze from the bodies.

      Taking the stone steps two at a time, the gates up ahead are open, one soldier standing guard. He turns to face us and waves his sword, “The demons are—”

      A comet smashes into him, exploding in a flash of green. Cassandra pulls me back and I hear Varric curse. I cover my mouth in shock, but the image of the soldier keeps floating into my mind. The gates stand empty, the soldier’s body simply gone.

      “We must help them,” says Cassandra. We don’t waste time as we run towards the gates. I notice various body bags lying in the frozen dirt, while the wounded stay on the other side, being tended to by Chantry clerics.

      We rush towards the top of the stairs where a large clearing spreads out in front of us. A demon slaps at a soldier with its long arms.

      I leap down from the small drop and run towards the struggling soldier. Slashing across the demon’s back, I manage to distract it long enough to allow the soldier to land a fatal blow. The demon shrinks into goo and the soldier thanks me.

      “Another Rift,” yells Cassandra.

      I see it, glowing in the mist. Demons and Shades spawn from the Rift, driving us back. But Cassandra and I work together, hacking and slashing as one, while Solas and Varric pick off the others with ranged weapons.

      That’s when I notice another soldier fighting. His blonde hair shines in the green glow, while he dances around demons. His blade is a blur and his shield part of his arm as he attacks a demon. I try not to stare too much, but he’s really distracting.

      Cassandra notices me starting to slack off, “Stay strong,” she yells through clenched teeth. She drives her blade into the demon and glares at me, “Close it.”

      I hold my hand up and the Rift contracts, the crystal’s shifting constantly. Pulling my arm back, I feel the Rift give and it explodes into dust.

      I turn to see Solas watching me, “Sealed. As before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

      Varric nods, “Let’s hope it works on the big one.”

      “Me too,” I mumble.

      “Lady Cassandra,” comes a voice. “You managed to close the Rift. Well done.”

      It’s the blonde-haired man I saw fighting before. His armour has a big lion-like mane covering the neck of the armour. It really must keep him warm. Underneath, I can tell he’s built like a warrior. And very handsome. His clear shaven face is chiseled in all the right ways, jaw lines almost as impressive as Cassandra’s. A cut sits on his top lip, white and deep.

      “Do not congratulate me, Commander. This is the prisoner’s doing.”

      I sigh inwardly at the word prisoner and my eyes drift to the snow at my feet.

      “Is it?” comes the man’s voice. I look up and I’m startled by his chocolate brown eyes. “I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

      “I… can’t promise anything, but I’ll try my best.”

      “That’s all we can ask,” says the man with a smile. He glances at Cassandra, “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

      “Then we best move quickly. Give us time Commander.”

      The soldiers around us begin to retreat and the Commander nods, “Maker watch over you—for all our sakes.”

      His eyes flick to me and he nods, before heading back with his soldiers.

      I watch as he helps a wounded soldier back to the others.

 

The temple is a nightmare. Bleak, dark and scary. Bodies, still alight with flames, are scattered around the clearing, positioned in all sorts of dying poses. The ground is charred, bricks burnt, grass turned to cinders. And worst of all, I can see the Breach’s green light reaching down just behind spires of brick—where we’ve got to go.

      “The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” says Solas.

      “What’s left of it,” cuts Varric.

      Cassandra turns to me, face solemn. She points to a spot in the middle of the destroyed temple, “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you. They say a woman was in the Rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” Her voice is soft, pained even. She would have lost many friends in the explosion.

      I swallow, but keep walking, not wanting to dwell on the facts. We make our way towards what once was a building, but is little more than a smoking pile of brick. Some of it is buried in rubble, while a small hallway still stands, fires burning. The thick haze is from the smoke of hundreds of tiny fires around us.

      The bodies are blackened beyond recognition and I send a small prayer to the Maker.

      As we stand on the edge of a balcony, I look up.

      In front of us is the biggest Rift yet. Its crystal’s shift and change, the green light twirling right up into the Breach. The Rift itself floats high in the air, rocks hovering around it.

      “The Breach is a long way up,” comments Varric.

      I try not to vomit in fear.

      “You’re here,” comes a voice. I turn to see Leliana coming towards us, soldiers behind her. “Thank the Maker.”

      “Leliana, have your men take up position around the temple,” orders Cassandra. Already at it before we can even make ourselves comfortable. Leliana nods and orders her soldiers.

      I can’t stop looking at the Rift. Its massive crystals are always changing, unpredictable. Cassandra steps in front of me, snapping me from my daze, “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

      I nod, “I’ll do the best I can.”

      “This Rift is the first, and it is the key,” says Solas. “Seal it and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

      “Well, no pressure then,” I mutter.

      “Let’s find a way down. And be careful,” Cassandra’s eyes flick to me.

      The four of us slowly find our way along the broken balcony, making sure not to trip over loose stone.

      Not even halfway across the balcony, the Breach rumbles and a voice fills the air, _“Now is the hour of victory.”_

      I jerk in surprise. The voice didn’t come from anyone here—it was all around us, deep and terrifying.

      _“Bring forth the sacrifice,”_ the voice says—obviously male.

      I search the sky, but can’t see anyone.

      Cassandra’s hand goes to her sword, “What are we hearing?”

      “At a guess: the person who created the Breach,” says Solas.

      A shiver runs down my spine. This person, whoever he is, made the Breach? Is that even possible?

      The mist is thick as we make our way around the balcony, which leads onto a rocky path. Spires of rock jut out from the walls, all covered in green veins that travel along the rock.

      My muscles are tense, my eyes desperately searching through the mist for enemies. But Leliana’s soldiers stand guard, watching the clearing.

      The mist clears and my eyes are drawn to something red in the rock wall.

      “Don’t touch that,” yells Varric.

      I leap away, almost pushing Cassandra over. She grabs my arm and pulls me away from the cluster of red rock.

      “That stuff is red Lyrium, Seeker.”

      Cassandra nods, “I see it Varric.”

      “But what’s it doing _here_ , of all places?”

      Solas glances at the Lyrium, “Magic could have drawn on Lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it.”

      Varric shakes his head, “It’s evil. Don’t touch it.” He glances at me again, but I’ve learnt my lesson. I stay close to Cassandra. Surely her jaw line will protect me.

      After successfully staying away from the red Lyrium, we make it to a small drop.

      “Come, it’s the only way we’ll get down,” orders Cassandra.

      I jump down, the rest following me. Seeing the Rift up close and personal really gets the heart pumping. I can feel the blood rushing through my veins and my heart’s about to burst from my chest.

      Green sparks fly from the shifting crystal, tinging the red Lyrium is a dark glow.

      My hand flares in pain and grunt, holding it up. Green light twirls around the scar on my palm.

      Solas watches the dancing green light, “Every time your mark reacts you’re in pain, correct?”

      I nod.

      “The mark is killing you—faster each time you use it.”

      I swallow, “Closing this Rift might kill me?”

      Solas doesn’t answer.

      _“Someone help me!”_ comes a female’s voice. I spin, searching for the source of the voice.

      _“What’s going on here?”_ comes my voice. My hand flies to my mouth, even though I didn’t speak.

      “That was your voice,” says Cassandra. “Most Holy called out to you. But…”

      The Rift expands, green light spreading across the air. A shadowy figure appears in the green mist, one with glowing red eyes. Its hands are big, long fingers flexing. In front of the shadow figure: I’m guessing the Most Holy—Divine Justinia. Her arms are spread wide, red magic wrapped around them to bind her. The Most Holy’s Chantry robes are dirty and ripped.

      Then a figure comes running in and with jarring surprise, I realise it’s me.

      The me-in-the-mist glances at the Divine, “What’s going on here?”

      “Run while you can! Warn them!” yells the Divine.

      “We have an intruder,” comes the same deep voice we heard before. The shadowy figure must have been talking to us. “Kill her. Now.”

      I watch in horror as me-in-the-mist takes a step back, but the image brightens and I have to shield my eyes.

      When I look back, the image is gone.                                                                          

      “You were there!” says Cassandra, her voice shaky. Then her voice becomes hard, “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was the vision true? What are we seeing?”

      I glare at her, “I don’t remember, alright? If I did, I would tell you.”

      Cassandra looks away.

      “Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place,” voices Solas’ voice. Poetic as usual.

      We follow Solas towards the Rift, though Varric and I stay back a little.

      Solas looks at us, “The Rift is not sealed, but it is not closed… albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the Rift can be opened and sealed properly and safely. However, opening the Rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

      “That means demons,” yells Cassandra. “Stand ready.”

      The soldiers around us take up arms, while the archers standing along the balcony nock their arrows.

      I glance at Cassandra and she nods, giving me the all clear. She unsheathes her weapon, Solas and Varric doing the same.

      I hold my hand up and the Rift begins the move, my hand glowing green. Sure enough, the Rift expands and my hand is pulled away from it as something shoots from the open Rift. Something big.

      I stare in horror as a demon quickly materializes in front of us. Its purple hide is thick, like plates of armour. Its skin points out into sword-like sticks at its elbow joint, big enough to impale someone. Seven eyes flick around on top of its large head, watching us all. Four horns curl out from the top of its skull, black as night.

      But that’s not the worse thing about this creature. Its claws are as long as my arm, sharp and pointed—ready to slash my throat out. It growls at us, a deep rumble in its throat.

      A Pride Demon.  

      “Now!” yells Cassandra.

      Arrows fly, hitting the beast from behind. Small impale themselves in the demon’s fingers, while the rest just fly off its thick skin.

      It roars and rushes forward while we all scramble away from it.

      Varric positions himself on a raised rock, away from the monster, while Solas does the same on the other side, shooting icicles at the beast.

      Cassandra runs with her shield up, dodging the beast’s massive arm, “We must wear it down, strip its defenses.”

      Well, that’s easier said than done.

      Leliana pulls back her draw string and the arrow flies into the demon’s mouth, but with the amount of teeth, the arrow just ricochets uselessly to the ground.

      Solas stomps his staff on the ground and a blast of cold air wraps around the demon, freezing it for a few vital seconds as I swing my blades into the demon’s back, trying to wear down its armour.

      “Disrupt the Rift to slow the demon down,” yells Solas.

      I glance at the Rift and throw my hand in the air, feeling the pain coursing through me again. The Rift lets out a pulse of green light, throwing the creature to its knees.

      Cassandra pounces, slashing her sword across the demon’s arms and legs. I whirl away from its flailing arm and thrust my daggers into its butt, making it roar in pain.

      “We’re wearing it down, keep going,” yells Cassandra.

      Slashing and hacking at the demon is the only thing I can do as the others around me do the same.

      Every few minutes, I disrupt the shifting Rift, making the demon fall to its knees again. This time, the demon struggles to get back up again.

      As Cassandra drives her blade into the demon’s leg, I rush past the others, following her attack. I spring towards demon, vaulting over its arms and grabbing hold of one of its horns. And I ram a blade into its eyes. It bucks around, screaming in pain. Purple fire begins to run along its skin and Cassandra pulls me back as the demon crumples to the ground, turning to goo.

      “Now!” yells Cassandra. “Do it!”

      I sheath my weapons and run straight for the Rift. If this is my last moment, I’m glad it was for the greater good.

      I never got to say goodbye to my family, but I’m sure they’ll hear of the good deed I did. Right? Cassandra would tell them… I’m not the prisoner anymore am I?

      It’s too late to think about it as I throw my hand in the air, a tear running down my cheek.

      What would happen to my little brother? Would they protect him?

      The Rift contracts, the crystals struggling to shift under the power of my mark.

      At least I got to kill a huge demon.

      I can feel the Rift pushing against me, the pain searing through my arm. I pool all my energy into closing the Rift. Nothing else matters now. I’m dead anyway.

      And in the moment, the Rift explodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and stay safe people.


	6. Chapter 5

_Seen from Haven, the sky pulses green, the light disappearing behind the mountain range glowing brighter. Light shoots up towards the Breach and sends a shockwave across the sky. The people of Haven watch in fear, though the Commander nods his head. The Rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes is closed. And maybe even the Breach._ _Maybe the Maker really was on their side._ _Snow is blown from the force of the shockwave, sending it into the air. And then the Breach flashes, the light blinding. The people shield their eyes, and the world goes quiet._

The first thing I feel is the pounding in my head, the splitting headache and my achy limbs.

      Where am I? In Ostwick? Mother may be wondering where I am. Would she? No, not after our fight. Brandon should be awake, I could go see how he’s holding up.

      Blackness swirls at the corners of my mind and I feel the pull of sleep. What time is it? I’d better get up. After all it’s the day of the Conclave.

      Hopefully the Conclave will clear the rising threat of war… even if it has already started. I never wanted to work for the Chantry, but it’s the bloodline I was born into—the Trevelyan family always works with the Chantry.  

      A woman with a powerful jaw line flashes through my mind and my eyes snap open as a door closes.

      Standing in front of me is an elf, carrying a wooden crate. She sees me and startles, stepping back, “Oh!”

      I sit up quickly.

      “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear,” she says, lip quivering.

      “Hey, don’t worry about it,” I say with a smile. “I only—”

      The young elf falls to her knees, dropping the crate. She seems to be… bowing to me, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” Her eyes don’t meet mine and she keeps her face lowered. “You are back in Haven, my Lady.” Finally, she looks up, if only for a second, “They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.”

      So it wasn’t a dream. And the Conclave… I still don’t remember what happened there. From the moment I arrived, to the moment I woke up in a Rift, I have no memory of.

      I lift my hand, the mark glowing green. But it doesn’t hurt anymore. No pain travels up my arm.

      “It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

      _Three days. I’ve been out for three days?_

      I look at the servant, “You mean, the mark didn’t kill me? We’re safe?”

      “I’m sure Lady Cassandra would want to know you’re awake,” says the servant, getting to her feet. She slowly backs out of the room, “She said, ‘at once’.”

      “Where is she?”

      “In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said.” And with that, she runs from the small hut. I look around, taking in my surroundings. The small house is neat and tidy. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, surprised that my legs aren’t shaky.

      I’m dressed in a beige tunic, the buttons made of gold. The collar is high, tickling my neck and the long sleeves keep me warm. My pants are tight around my legs and my boots go up to my knees, laces tied. I blink, wondering who dressed me.

      My armour and weapons lay on the table on the other side of the room and I grab them.

      I notice another set of armour folded up in a chest. I pull it out, gasping at the craftsmanship of the armour. Golden scales adorn the sleeves of the cuirass, meeting with the blue leather of the torso. The shoulder plates are made from hardened leather, tipped with gold. Although, I don’t think it’s real gold… A red sash is tied around the middle of the armour, for decoration. The greaves are tight armoured pants, plates of golden scales stitched onto the thighs. The boots, steel capped, go up to just below my knees. A small note sits inside the chest and reads: “Flames of the Inquisition”. 

      Looking at myself in the reflective mirror, I stare at my face. My shoulder length black hair is messy and my green eyes wild, dark bags under them. My faded tattoo is clean, the black ink untouched by the dirt that covers the rest of my face. A cloth sits in the water basin so I set about cleaning my neck and face.

      The armour fits nicely and I see the sheath I looted from the corpse back in the valley. Its golden vines are flecked with snow. I buckle the sheath across my back and walk towards the door.

      But I hesitate. What if they want to trial me? People would still think I’m guilty for the death of Divine Justinia. And I wouldn’t have any evidence backing me up.

      I ball my fist and open the wooden door. Light spills in and I blink, the cold air nipping at my nose.

      And I gasp. Standing outside my little house are the people of Haven, creating a path for me through the village. I tentatively make my way down the wooden steps and onto the snowy path the people have made.

      Don’t they still see me as the criminal? The murderer?

      The scouts, some familiar from the battle fought at the Rift, straighten as I make my way along the path. People whisper my name.

      “She closed the Rift, she did,” says someone.

      “That’s her, the Herald of Andraste.”                                                                          

      “The mark on her hand…”

      I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as the guards nod at me, small smiles on their lips. I walk briskly, wanting to move quickly through the crowded village.

      Herald of Andraste? What does that mean?

      Various hide tents are pitched around the village, people resting in them, but when they see me, they straighten.

      I get to the big building, which I’m guessing is the Chantry. More people stand around the entrance, watching me, some even bowing.

      The building itself is made of brick—thick enough to keep the whole building warm. Chantry flags snap in the wind, a sun on an orange background. Its huge archway leads inside the building, but the massive oak doors are shut. Painted onto the wood is the symbol of the Chantry.

      Two soldiers standing guard push the doors open and I practically lunge inside, getting away from the crowd. The doors slam shut behind me.

      The Chantry is warm, quaint and quiet. Candles burn everywhere—clusters on the ground, mounted on the walls, on top of barrels and tables. They must be scented because the fragrance of hazelnut fills the air.

      Various doors lead to different rooms and I’m about to knock in the first one when I hear yelling.

      “Have you gone completely mad?” voices a man. I remember his whiny voice from the Forward Camp. It’s Chancellor Roderick. His voice comes from the other end of the building, the door shut. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whoever becomes the Divine.”

      My lip curls in disgust and I walk towards the closed door, my strides forceful.

      I push the door open and nearly jerk at the sight of two Templars guarding the doorway. Cassandra’s hands are placed on the table, her jaw line very strong in the light. Leliana stands beside her, arms crossed.

      The Chancellor himself jumps back in surprise when he sees me. Gathering his wits, he points at me, “Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the Capital for trial.”

      Cassandra pushes herself from the desk slowly, “Disregard that and leave us.” She’s looking at the Templars behind me. They nod and walk from the room, their armour rattling.

      “You walk a dangerous path, Seeker.”

      Cassandra walks over to the Chancellor, her face like stone, “The Breach is stable, but is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

      I step up, before the two get into a fist fight, “I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me… I thought it was going to kill me.  
      “Yet you live,” spits the Chancellor. “A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

      “Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face,” says Cassandra with a quick glance at me.

      Leliana nods, “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect.” She turns to Cassandra, “Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live.”

      The two woman look at the Chancellor and I feel inclined to look at him as well.

      He throws his hands in the air, “I’m a suspect?”

      “You, and many others,” retorts Leliana.

      “But _not_ the prisoner,” he yells.

      “I heard the voices in the temple,” says Cassandra. “The Divine called to her for help.”

      The Chancellor squints at me, “So her survival—”

      “I do have a name, you know,” I say. “It’s Lydia.”

      The bastard continues without skipping a beat, “Her survival, that thing on her hand—all a coincidence?”                                                                                                  

      “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

      I smile, “Though all before me is shadow, yet small the Maker be my guide.” The verse was from a prayer my mother used to teach me. The Chantry certainly had an impact on the Trevelyan family.  

      Cassandra looks at her feet, “We lost everything… then out of nowhere, you came.”

      I watch the warrior as she stares at the ground. Her short black hair has a braid running through it like a crown—something I hadn’t noticed before. What she said had touched my heart. And it has been the only nice thing she’s said to me.

      Leliana turns to me, “The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

      “This is not for you to decide,” snaps the Chancellor.

      Cassandra pushes her way through to the desk and slams a heavy book on the oak top. Its hard brown cover is worn with age and dusty. A metal symbol has been glued to the front cover—similar to the Chantry symbol. But this one has an eyes set in the middle of a flaming sun. The pages inside are thick and crinkled.

      “You know what this is, Chancellor,” snaps Cassandra, pointing at the book. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.”

      I glance at the book then to Cassandra, a little confused. What does a book have to do with anything? I don’t voice my thoughts though.

      Cassandra’s eyes meet mine, “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She walks towards the Chancellor, who backs up in alarm. Cassandra’s eyes are hard, “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

      The Chancellor doesn’t say anything. He just glances at Leliana and me, then walks from the room. Cassandra throws her hands up in defeat.

      Leliana picks up the book, “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of Old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers and now no Chantry support.”

      “But we have no choice: we must act now,” Cassandra argues. She looks at me, “With or without your help.”

      “The ‘Inquisition of Old’, what does that mean, exactly,” I ask.

      “It preceded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

      Cassandra nods, “After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under one banner once more.”

      I scratch my head, “If you’re really trying to restore order…”

      “That is the plan,” smiles Leliana.

      “Help us fix this before it’s too late,” says Cassandra, holding a hand out.

      I smile and grasp her hand, shaking it.

      There’s no going back now…


	7. Chapter 6

I sit on a wooden seat just outside the Chantry. One of Leliana’s ravens sit on my arm, gently rubbing its beak against my hand. It nips at the mark and I pull my hand away, “Hey. Not that. You could make me blow up Haven. As funny as that would be…”

      I look around, seeing everyone else at work. All except me. Cassandra had dismissed me after the declaration of the Inquisition being reborn. It seems I’m only needed when demons needs slaying and Rift’s need closing. 

      The raven squawks and ruffles its feathers. The wind is picking up, sending a shiver down my spine.

      Leliana appears from the doors and holds her arm out, “Sorry Lydia, but your friend is in need of service.”

      I stand as the raven flutters over to Leliana, perching on her arm, “Not a problem. I’ll… um. Go back to my house.”

      That raven was my only friend.

      Leliana ties a note to the foot of the raven and pushes her arm outwards, sending the raven off to where ever it’s needed. Another raven follows close behind, each going separate ways.

      As I turn to leave, the Commander waltzes towards the oak doors. He and Lelianna share a smile and a nod as he hammers a piece of parchment to the doors. The symbol I saw on the large book back in the Chantry is printed on the large piece of parchment. But this symbol has a sword going through the eye.

      The Commander looks at me, “The symbol of the Inquisition.”

      “Looking good,” I say. Then I clear my throat, “Ah, the sigil, not um… you.” I nearly kick myself for saying that. “I mean… you look good, just the sigil…” I give up.

      He blinks and I see him swallow, “Ah…” He glances away, “Leliana is… ah, Cassandra coming?”

      “She should be here any minute,” nods the woman.

      I groan quietly, trying not to hurl myself into the brick wall.

      But then I spy Chancellor Roderick gaping at the piece of parchment. He shakes his head and leaves the crowd as they come to read the paper. I watch him disappear from the crowd.

      A dark-skinned woman, no older than Leliana, joins as on the landing, as the crowd around us begins to step back, watching us. Like we’re the leaders—the ones everyone looks up to.

      Perhaps it would be best to just head back to my house. I’m out of place here. People looking up to me isn’t something that usually happens.

      Cassandra walks towards me and everyone steps out of her way, bowing and nodding to her—just like they had when I had woken up. She wears a different armour—without the sigil of the Chantry painted across her chest. Surely she doesn’t wear armour all the time.

      A slight smile plays on the edge of her lips and she looks to me. I shift uncomfortably, glancing at the Commander then back to Cassandra.

      A banner flaps down in front of the doors, revealing the sigil of the Inquisition. And the Breach still swirls in the sky—a rip in the Veil. And if I’m completely honest, it does look magnificent—the brilliant green pulsing through the sky, the rocks hovering just outside the tear. It looks like something out of one of Grandma’s stories… only this time it is real. And I seem to be the one in the centre of it all.

      And we stand as a group. All of us haphazard people randomly plunged into the war against the Breach. Or it may have been the Maker’s will.

      Either way, one thing is certain.

      The Inquisition is reborn.

 

+++

 

When the little ceremony was done, Cassandra walks with me to the room she calls the War Room.

      As we walk through the Chantry, I glance at me hand.

      “Does it trouble you?” asks Cassandra.

      I stop walking and look at the warrior, “Not anymore. It’s stopped spreading and it doesn’t hurt.”

      “We take our victories where we can,” smiles Cassandra—a rare gesture. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable. As is the Breach.”

      I nod.

      “You’ve given us time, Trevelyan,” she continues. “And Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

      “Sounds dangerous,” I say, not really sure what else there is to say. I laugh softly, “I mean, what harm could there be in powering up something we don’t understand?”

      Cassandra smiles again, “You better keep hold of that sense of humor.”

      We walk into the War Room, where the others stand around a wooden table. The War Table itself has a massive parchment map of both Fereldan and Orlais, with table pieces scattered all around the map.

      “You’ve met Commander Cullen, Leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” says Cassandra.

      Cullen smiles at me and I feel the slight heat of a blush tinging my cheeks, “Yes, we’ve, ah, met briefly before.”

      “It was only for a moment on the field. And I’m pleased you survived,” he says.

      I’m glad he hasn’t mentioned the other time we met briefly.

      Cassandra cocks her head towards the dark-skinned woman. Her skin, like chocolate, her eyes almost the same. Her face is soft and smiling and her black hair tied into a bun and she keeps tucking wisps of her hair behind her ear. And she’s pretty, I’ll give her that.

      “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

      Josephine’s warm eyes flick to me and she smiles, “I’ve heard much. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

      “Montilyet? You’re friends with my family,” I say, glad to finally have someone I know—even if Josephine and I have never met in person.

      The diplomat nods, “Our folks were good friends, although they have not seen each other in a long time.”

      “And the forth,” nods Cassandra, glancing at Leliana, “You know Sister Leliana.”

      “My position here involves a degree of…”

      “She is our spymaster.”

      “Yes,” nods Leliana. “Tactically put, Cassandra.”

       “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” I say, smiling at them.

      “I mentioned that you mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” says Cassandra.

      “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” suggests Leliana.

      “And I still disagree,” comes Cullen’s voice. And it is a little dreamy… He looks at the spymaster, “The Templars could serve just as well.”

      Cassandra sighs, “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark—”

      “Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—”

      “Pure speculation,” cuts Leliana.

      “ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of,” says Cullen, although his voice cracks.

      Josephine picks up her board, equipped with an small ink tube, a candle and parchment to write on, “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—and you, specially.” She looks at me.

      “They still think I’m guilty.” It wasn’t a question.

      “That is not the entirety of it any longer,” she says. “Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste, and this frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

      Herald of Andraste: that’s what I heard when I woke up. Some of the people were whispering the title.

      “Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” curses Cassandra.

      “It limits our options. Approaching the mages or the Templars for help is currently out of the question.”

      “Will the Chantry attack us?” I ask, concerned that we may be overrun before we can even close the Breach.

      “With what? They have only words at their disposal,” says Cullen.

      Josephine looks at the Commander, “And yet, they may bury us with them.”

      “There is something you can do,” says Leliana. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.”

      “Me?” I ask.

      The spymaster nods, “She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

      “I’ll see what she has to say.”

      “You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe.”

      “Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re at it—Maker knows we need it,” says Cullen.

      “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

      “In the meantime,” says Cassandra, “Let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald.”

      I blink, glad to have Cassandra at my side.

      We look over the War Table and Leliana places a finger on the Hinterlands, “I’ll have my scouts search ahead, slip past the fighting and protect her.”

      I look up, “Fighting? The Templars and the mages fight has spread to the Hinterlands?”

      Leliana nods, “And Mother Giselle is caught in the middle.”

      “We’ll reach her as soon as we can.”

      “And that’s all we can ask,” says Cullen.

      The three of them look at me, waiting for me to continue.

      I fumble for words, “Um… ah. We’ll need mounts… I think.”

      Cullen nods, “We have four horses in the stables. They’ll be put to good use in the Hinterlands, just keep them away from the fighting.”

      Cassandra’s lips are tightly pressed, “We should leave it at that for today. It’s almost nightfall and I’m sure the Herald is hungry.”

      “Oh, I’m fine,” I say.

      “Very well,” says Josephine. “We’ll leave you be for today.”

      “We’ll set out to the Hinterlands first thing tomorrow,” I say. Looking at Cassandra, I see if she agrees.

      She nods her head.

      I sigh inwardly. Having to help lead this mission wasn’t something I was planning on. Especially when they seemed like they didn’t need me before.

      As the five of us leave the War Room, I watch as they move together, talking quietly amongst themselves. And I’m left trailing behind them, their conversation almost too soft to hear. Josephine heads to her chambers, while the others go their separate ways.

      I’m left standing outside, in the cold be myself.

      Walking through Haven, I make my way towards the potions shop, hoping to stock up on some remedies.

      As I walk up the steps, I see Solas standing just outside the shop, watching the Breach in awe.

      He spots me and nods, “The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.”

      “Ah… I wouldn’t call myself a hero. Just someone who wants to close the Breach,” I say. “Though, maybe in time…”

      “Pragmatic, but ultimately irrelevant,” says Solas. He looks away, “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilisations. I’ve watched a host of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past of ancient was both famous and forgotten.” He stops and looks at me, “Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

      “Hopefully a good one.”

      Solas bows his head.

      I shift my feet, “You mentioned before, ruins and battlefields. What did you mean by that?”

      Solas smiles, “Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

        “You… fall asleep in the middle of ruins? Isn’t that slightly dangerous?”

      “I do set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.” I flinch at the mention of giant spiders and Solas seems to sense my discomfort, “I am sorry if I upset you.”

      “No,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’d just rather stay away from giant spiders.” Looking at him, I focus on his shiny head, trying to stop the images of spiders flooding my mind, “I’ve never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade. That’s extraordinary.”

      “Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lighting. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for a thing.”

      A smile comes to my lips.

      “I will stay then,” he says. “At least until the Breach has been closed.”

      “Was that in doubt?”

      “I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

      “Of course. Cassandra trusts you after all, she wouldn’t let anything happen.”

      “Thank you, I appreciate that thought.” He looks to the sky, “It would be best if you got some rest. I hear we are going to the Hinterlands on the morrow.”

      “To find Mother Giselle.”

      He nods and I leave him be.

      The sun has begun its descent, sending rays of oranges light through the sky. The Breach’s green glow is mingled with the orange light.

      I decide it would be best to head back to my house, as so I don’t disturb anyone else. I may be the Herald of Andraste, but I know the people are still suspicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a small chapter this time, but there will be more action and adventure soon!!


	8. Chapter 7

I wake with a start, muscles aching and eyes heavy. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night. And what little sleep I did get was plagued by nightmares… Maker’s breath, I hope my brother is alright.

      The room is dark and I dress into my armour and grab my weapons. I pad across the house to the door and open it.

      It’s only early morning, the sun just peeking out of the mountain range. The Breach is the main source of light, sending a green tinge across the valley. Even the moon doesn’t shine as bright as the Breach.

      The village is quiet and empty, only a few scouts guarding the inn and merchant shops. I make my way down towards the gates, leading out to the stables and training grounds. I hadn’t seen those yet, and now’s as good a time as any.

      The wooden stables house four horses, their shiny brown coats glinting in the sunrise. A blacksmiths forge sits idle beside the stables and I smile. Blacksmithing was somewhat of a hobby before the sky ripped a hole in itself.

      I turn away from the stables when I hit a grunt. Looking at the training area, I see various tents pitched in the snow, well away from the grounds, but I’m guessing they give the scouts some beds and privacy. Not as luxurious as my little house, but tents made from druffalo hide are warm and cozy.                                                                    

      I see someone dancing around the practice dummies, hitting the straw dummies with her sword. She smashes one dummy with her shield and smacks another. She moves with grace and control, better than any dancer.

      “She’s good, isn’t she?” comes a voice from behind me. I turn to see Varric watching the Seeker. “The Seeker’s been training for years. Always wakes up early.”

      “Every morning?” I ask.

      He nods, “It’s the only time she doesn’t look angry.”

      I smile, “And why are you up so early? I don’t see you training. Maybe you’re here to admire the view.” And I don’t mean the Breach.

      Varric shrugs, “Early morning is where all my best ideas come from.” He ignores my other comment.

      “You’re a writer, aren’t you?”  
      “One of my many talents,” the dwarf teases.

      Cassandra whacks a dummy with her sword, with no inkling that we’re watching her.

      “So… now that Cassandra’s too busy beating up those dummies, how are you holding up?”

      “Me?

      “Well, I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

      “Well, to be honest, I’m just glad to be alive,” I say.

      Varric chuckles, “I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra. You’re lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage. She’s getting the last out of her system now,” he cocks his head towards her.

      “As long as she doesn’t start beating me up.”

      Varric smiles, but his eyes drift to the Breach, “For days now, we’ve been watching demons fall out of it.” He sighs, “Bad for morale would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

      I glance at my hand, “I…ah, I guess I was fortunate enough.”

      Varric shrugs, “Very fortunate.”

      “Why did you stay?” I ask. “I mean, Cassandra did say you were free to go.”

      “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this… thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.” His eyes flick to Cassandra, “Plus, someone’s gotta make sure Cassandra doesn’t beat you up.”

      “Well, that’s very kind of you,” I say with a laugh.

      We hear footsteps approaching and we turn to see Cassandra walking towards us, her cheeks red from her training and sword in sheath. She nods at us both then looks at Varric, “What are you doing up?”

      “Making sure you don’t fall on the tip of your blade while training.”

      “Ugh. I’m not that stupid.”

      “Of course not Seeker.”

      She looks at me, “When would you like to leave?”

      I jolt, “You’re asking me?”

      “You are the Herald of Andraste.”

      I nod, “Well, we’ll leave when the sun rises above the mountains.”

 

+++

 

“Only two horses?” asks Cassandra. “How are we meant to ride then?”

      The stable hand shrugs, “My other two are injured from the comets the Breach hurled at us. For now, these are the only two we have until the others heal. But these horses are well equipped for two riders.”

      Cassandra’s face is yet again twisted in a scowl. She looks a Cullen for help.

      “Perhaps it would be best if we search for more mounts in case this happens again,” he says. There is a horse master in the Hinterlands—he should help us.”

      “What if we’re attacked? We won’t be able to move fast enough with two riders on one horse,” she argues.

      “We will keep a look out,” says Solas. “I shall ride with the Herald, if it means all the same to you.”

      Cassandra looks at Varric. The dwarf grins—a mischievous smile.

      “I am not riding with him.”

      Varric sighs, “Right back at you Seeker. You’ve too heavy anyway.”

      Cassandra’s eyes flash.

      “I’ll ride with Cassandra,” I suggest, before the two start hitting each other.

      Solas nods, “As you wish.”

      I mount the horse and hold my hand out, allowing Cassandra to take it and pull herself onto the horse.

      Varric and Solas look almost as uncomfortably as I feel.

      “Let’s just get this over with,” growls Cassandra.

      “And that, Seeker, sounds like a great idea,” says Varric.

 

+++

 

We jump down from our mounts, the four of us secretly glad the ride is over. I pat the mare on the neck, feeling her soft fur beneath my fingers. The ride was almost two hours and with Cassandra fidgeting behind, me it felt like four.

      I glance around the small camp that Leliana’s scouts have set up. A few tents and tables make up the entirety of the camp, but it seems to work.

      A dwarf walks over to us, smiling. Her brown hair is tied back in an intricate bun, her face, neck and shoulders covered in freckles.

      She looks up at me, smiling, “The Herald of Andraste. I’ve heard some great stories about you—everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach.”

      “Oh,” I say, a little overwhelmed by the praise. “Thank you.”

      “It’s an honour to meet you, my Lady.” She blinks, “Oh. Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I—well all of us here—we’ll do whatever you need.”

      “Another two horses would be great,” mutters Cassandra.

      “Harding, huh?” asks Varric, cutting Cassandra’s comment. “Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”

      “I can’t say I have, why?”

      “You’d be Harding in… oh never mind.”

      “Ugh,” Cassandra rolls her eyes.

      “Pleased to meet you Harding, I’m sure if there’s anything we need, we’ll come straight to you.”

      She smiles and looks at the thick forest of trees surrounding us. Everything here is green. “It’s pretty bad out there. We secured a few more horses from Dennet’s herd near Redcliffe—I see you’re a little low on mounts at the moment. But, with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to the horsemaster. Maker only knows if he’s still alive.”

      “We should go there at once,” says Cassandra. “Walking around on foot will take too long.”

      Scout Harding nods, “Mother Gisselle is at the crossroads, helping refugees and the wounded. Reports say that the war has spread there as well. We have men down there, protecting the people they can. But I doubt they’ll hold much longer. You best get going, no time to lose.”

      “Thanks for the information,” I say.

      “Traversing the Hinterlands on foot may not be such a bad idea,” suggests Solas. “If we are to get to Mother Giselle—and the horsemaster— without being seen, walking will be quieter.”

      “I’m with Chuckles,” says Varric.

      We all stare at the dwarf, “Chuckles?”

      “For all the times Solas laughs.”

      A small smile forms on Solas’ lips, but he looks away, “We best get going.”

      The four of us walk down a dirt path, silence washing over us. Cassandra has her hand on the hilt of her sword, Solas is watching the trees around us and Varric is scratching his stomach.

      “So…” I begin, flicking my eyes at Varric. “Scout Harding seems cute.”

      Varric’s hand falls from his stomach, “Harding?” He laughs, “Herald, what are you trying to say?” There’s a sparkle in his eye.

      “Oh please, Varric couldn’t get a girl if he tried,” says Cassandra.

      “Oh Seeker, you hurt me,” says Varric. “And I bet you couldn’t get a man if you tried.”

      Cassandra turns away, making one of her trademark disgusted noises.

      I copy her and she looks at me, her dark eyes like steel. She pulls a map from her pocket and unfolds it, holding it out in front of her as we walk. I walk by her side, “It will take us a few hours to get to the crossroads on foot. The Hinterlands is huge—it would perhaps be best to see Mother Giselle and then the horsemaster.”

      I nod, “We can ride the horses back to Scout Harding once we know Mother Giselle is safe and we know what she wants.”

      My foot catches on something and I feel myself falling. My legs try to steady myself, but I’m already tipping forward.

      I brace myself, but someone catches me before I fall face first in the dirt. I look up to see Solas, his arm wrapped around my waist. His bald head shines in the sun.

      I straighten and pull away from his grasp, “Ah, thank you.”

      He bows his head and fixes his tunic, “You are welcome, Herald.”

      “So,” says Varric. “Shall we continue into the mage-Templar infested forests?”

      “I think that sounds like a great idea,” I say.

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter this time, but I hoped you enjoyed! :D


	9. Chapter 8

“Shh,” I say, waving a hand at the others before crouching behind a boulder.

      “What is it?” asks Cassandra, coming to crouch beside me.

      I point with my head.

      A lone Templar walks along the path, sword drawn, shield ready. His face is masked behind a black helmet, and his body engulfed in heavy iron armour—the Templar sigil painted upon his chest. He hasn’t spotted us yet, thank the Maker.

      The lowering sun glints against his armour, sending rays into my eyes. I lean back against the boulder, trying to control my breathing. The sun beginning it’s descent—it must be mid-afternoon by now. We’ve been walking for most of the day. I don’t know if I have the energy to fight. 

      “He’s alone,” whispers Varric.

      “Let him be,” says Cassandra.

      We watch in silence as the Templar continues along the path and it’s only when Cassandra is sure he won’t hear us, that we move from our cover.

      “A lone Templar?” asks Solas. “Very unusual.”

      I frown, “Perhaps he’s lost… or on patrol.”

      “Either way, we must get to Mother Giselle.”

      My company travel in silence, along the path. I want to say something, but everything I say or do seems to leads the others to think I’m an idiot.

      But what else am I supposed to say? I was thrust into this mess when I fell through a Rift, with my memory gone. I see the disappointment in Cassandra’s eyes every time I open my mouth—like she wants me to be someone else.

      Maybe that _is_ the truth though. I came into this unintentionally. Being the Herald of Andraste perhaps was meant for someone else.

      The sounds of swords and yelling cut through the air like a knife. My thoughts dissipate, swirling into the back of my mind.

      I break into a sprint, headed straight for the fighting. Maybe I can prevent a few deaths. That might gain me some respect.

      Inquisition soldiers struggle against a small group of Templars.

      One Templar brings his sword down, tearing straight through a young soldier’s chest. I gasp and back up, losing my footing. I feel myself fall and land on my back. Pain shoots through my shoulder and when I look up, I see a sword coming straight for my face.

      I whip my blade up just in time to stop the sword from carving my nose from my face. The Templar who killed the solider glares at me, his eyes just visible in the slits of his helmet. I push his blade away and kick him in the knee. Surprised by my own strength, I do it again and the Templar stumbles. I roll to my feet, wheeling away from the Templar, just as a steel bolt pierces his throat.

      Bleed spurts from his wound and the dying Templar clutches at his throat in a desperate attempt to undo the damage.

      My eyes flick to Varric, his cross bow—Bianca—pointed at the Templar now lying on the ground. The dwarf’s lips are tightly pressed.

      More Templars rush from the paths, swords raised.

      “Hold!” yells Cassandra. “We are not apostates.”

      “I don’t think they care, Cassandra,” I yell, deflecting another attack. Using one blade to defend and the other to attack, I gain the upper hand quickly and the Templar goes down, a blade in his chest.

      I turn, seeing the Templars surrounding Cassandra—possibly because she’s our best fighter. I rush towards the group, slicing at the men as Varric and Solas pick them off from the outskirts of the battle. Cassandra slams her shield into the last Templar’s face and as he stumbles back, I stab him in the spine.

      I swallow down my guilt, steeling myself to continue on. If I show any sigh of guilt to Cassandra, she’d probably gut me.

      I straighten as we regroup, the Inquisition scouts giving us thanks.

      “Harding was right—the fighting is bad,” says Varric.

      I open my mouth, but a flash of orange stops me.

      A fireball shoots through the air, straight for our group. We split, Cassandra bringing up her shield just in time for the fire ball to smash against it. The warrior jerks back with a grunt, but seems unfazed.

      Solas spins his staff, aiming a cold blast of air at the group of mages now scrambling towards us. They’re slowed by the cold and gives me a chance to attack.

      I leap towards the nearest mage, slicing across his unprotected stomach—my blade easily slicing through his robes. The mage loses grip on his staff and clutches his stomach as he falls to his knees.                                                                                        

      Bolts slice through the group, sending mages to the ground, while the last one standing sends a fireball at Solas.

      My legs work on their own accord and I leap, stretching my body in mid-air. My blade cuts through the fire ball’s path and I slap the bolt of magic from its course, sending it to the ground.

      My stomach hits the ground and the wind is pushed out of me. I blink away blurry vision and lift my head. Cassandra comes to stand next to me as I lie on the ground.

      “That was an impressive move, deflecting that with your blade.”

      I swallow, “Thank you. Although, I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

      Cassandra gives me a small smile and extends her hand. I take it and she helps me up. Brushing the dirt from my armour, I glance around, “No more mages or Templars?”

      A scout comes towards, “No, Herald. No more. Mother Giselle is just down the road.”

      As we walk, I notice the fires burning. Multiple fires burning. The flames lick at the trees, the grass, the rocks. And right in the middle is a small community—a little village sitting amongst the cliff faces and bushes.

      The fires are yet to reach the village, but I can only imagine one rebel mage could send the whole community up in flames.

      But the amount of refugees is astounding. Many stand in clumps, clutching what little they have left. Children play naked in the small stream, while their parents try to sell elfroot ‘for their starving children’.

      Various Inquisition scouts and soldiers stand around the perimeter of the village, keeping watch for rebel mages and Templars.

      Carts and crates are scattered around the place, the provisions sent by the Inquisition obviously running low. But there are merchants willing to trade and sell.

      Cassandra cocks her head and I turn to see a larger building, brimming with mages and the wounded.

      “Loyal mages helping the wounded?” I ask.

      “And Mother Giselle.”

      We walk up the stairs as she tends to a patient, a soldier whose knee is bent a way it shouldn’t.

      “Just relax,” says Mother Giselle, easing the soldier of his pain. She looks up and spots us. Leaving the soldier to one of the mages, much to his look of horror, Mother Giselle comes over to us. Her hands are tucked in the sleeves of her red robes.

      “You must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste, are you not?”

      I glance at Cassandra, “I am. I’m told you asked for me?”

      “I did,” nods the Mother. “I know of the Chantry’s denouncement. There are many left wanting to become the new Divine. Others, though are just terrified. So many were taken from us, after all.”

      “What happened at the Conclave was horrible,” I say.

      “Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason.”

      I blink. Her words ring the truth, the utter truth. Everyone is scared. The Breach is something to be feared. The Chantry, Chancellor Roderick, the people of Haven all seem beyond reason. Haven had resented me—hated me for something I didn’t do. They didn’t know me, but they were quick to judge, even without hearing my side of the story yet. And Chancellor Roderick—he doesn’t want to believe in the one organization that could save the world.

      Mother Giselle places a hand on my arm and I fear she sensed my thoughts, “Go. Go to the remaining Clerics and convince them you are no demon to be feared.”

      Not now, not now that people know where I’ve come from. Before, it wouldn’t have been so easy.

      _Demon._

      Am I a demon? This mark on my hand may be able to close Rifts, but what about the one at the temple. I had to open the Rift first. I can open them just as easily as I can close them.

      “Give them something else to believe.”

      “Appeal to them?”

      “Let me put it this way: you needn’t convince them all. You just need some of them to doubt.”

      “Thank you, I’ll try.”

      “I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us… But I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us… or destroy us.”

      _Demon._

      Mother Giselle looks at the refugees, “I will go to Haven. I’m sure Sister Leliana will need the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.”

      I watch her leave, some Inquisition scouts ready to escort her back to Haven. She turns back to me and nods then continues on her way.

      I let out a sigh, brushing my strands of black hair from my face.

      “I am glad Mother Giselle is safe,” comes a voice from beside me. Cassandra looks at me, “Her influence will be needed.”

      I nod, feeling my lips press together.

      “Come it would be best to find the horsemaster. Some scouts believe his stables are a few miles up the road—we’ll get there in an hour, then Haven will be a fast journey with the horses.”

      I look at Cassandra, “ _You_ might get there by sunset, but…” I trail off and glance at Varric, who’s playing with the children in the small stream. Thank the Maker he’s got clothes on though. He roars at them and the children scream, running away us he tries to catch them.

      Solas leans on his staff, his face soft. Cassandra watches and I see a small smile cross her face.

      It is good to see someone still able to bring light in this time of darkness.


	10. Chapter 9

I bring my black stallion to a trot, pulling on the reins as we reach the stables. We had managed to locate the horsemaster in the Hinterlands, hidden away in his small house, hoping to stay behind doors until the Breach is closed.

      Great protection a wooden door will do when the Breach tears the world apart.

      The sun is setting now—we galloped most of the way back to Haven, accompanied by Scout Harding.                                                                                                               

      “Whoa,” says Cassandra, slowing her horse beside mine.

      Now with eight horses in total, the stables are sure to be a little smelly—let’s just hope the stench of manure won’t drift to my cabin.

      I dismount and pat the soft black fur of my horse. He is the finest stallion I’ve ever seen: groomed, healthy, the biggest in the herd and certainly the strongest. The horsemaster had insisted I ride him, being dubbed Herald and all.

      I hand my horse to the stable boy with a thanks and start making my way towards the Chantry—hopefully Mother Giselle has made it from the Hinterlands.

       The walk through Haven is quiet, there are hardly any people out. The usual bustling merchant stalls are empty, along with the small courtyard where the people pray and chat. The only people I can see are the scouts on patrol. 

      Varric notices as well, “Seems like everyone’s at the Tavern.” He lets out a small laugh.

      Cassandra doesn’t seem so convinced. Her delicate black eyebrows furrow, a scowl on her face, “I wouldn’t think so.”

      It’s not until we reach the stone stairs near the Chantry that I see why the village is empty. Everyone has crowded around the doors to the Chantry. I can hear shouting and a few people push each other. Then the crowd surges backwards, leaving a large gap for me to see what exactly is going on.

      A mage and a Templar face off against each other. They stare each other down, like mongrel dogs fighting for a scrap of food.

      “You killed her—your kind killed the Most Holy,” barks the Templar.

      The mage jabs a finger at the knight, “Lies—your kind let her die.”

      “Shut your mouth mage,” the Templar yells. And in a flash, he reaches for his sword.

      I take another step forward, but a hand reaches the Templar, shoving him and the mage away from each other, “Enough.” Commander Cullen’s voice rings through the village.

      My eyes automatically flick from him and settle on my boots.

      “Knight-Captain,” says the mage.

      “That is not my title. Not anymore,” he says. His voice is deep, soothing almost.

      My eyes drift back towards his face. His brow is set in a furious expression, lips pointed downward, but his scar prominent as ever.

      “We are not Templars any longer. Nor are we a different kind from someone else. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition.

      The crowd parts again as a man pushes his way through. His red and white robes all too familiar, “And what does that mean, exactly?” asks Chancellor Roderick.

      More like Chancellor Pain-in-Andraste’s-Ass.

      He walks towards Cullen, hands clasped behind his back.

      “Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?” asks Cullen. Who knew the Commander could be snarky as well as attractive.

      I step closer again, trying to keep my eyes from drifting to Cullen’s brown ones.

      “I am curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its “Herald” will restore order as you’ve promised us all.”

      “Of course you are,” Cullen mutters. He looks to the crowd, “Back to your duties, all of you.”

      The crowd begins to dissolve and I make my way towards Cullen, “Is everything alright?”

      Cullen turns to me, and nods.

      Roderick scoffs, “Here is the so-called Herald of Andraste.”

      “Here I am.”

      “In due time, Andraste will be our guide, not some dazed wanderer on a mountainside.”

      “I was found in a temple, not a mountainside,” I snap.

      Chancellor Roderick steps back as if hit in the chest, “Well I never. The Herald of Andraste foul mouthing me, a Chancellor? What will the people think?”

      Cullen crosses his arms and turns to me, “Please talk some sense into the people at Val Royeaux.”

      “I’ll… I’ll try.”

      Cullen nods, “That’s all we can ask, Herald.”

      The Chancellor grunts and stalks off towards the Rift he must have crawled out from.

      “Herald,” comes Varric’s voice.

      “Lydia… it’s just Lydia, please.”

      “As you wish,” he says with a smile. “We were wondering if you’d like to head to the tavern for a few drinks.”

      I scratch my head, “I don’t really know guys, I mean, we’ve had a pretty big day. And we’ve got to travel to Val Royeaux tomorrow.”

      “A few drinks to help you fall asleep then?”

      A smile creeps along my face, “Why not.”

      “Maker’s breathe Varric, if you get her drunk…” begins Cassandra. “I better come along to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

      Varric grins, “By all means Seeker. And you, Curly?”

      Cullen tilts his head, “One drink surely won’t hurt.

 

+++

 

I lean back in my wooden chair, a tankard of ale in my hand, watching Cullen and Varric talking at the other side of the room. A light rain patters against the wooden roof of the tavern, but I can hardly hear it over the shouts from the other patrons.

      “Herald, may I ask you a question?”

      Cassandra’s voice pulls me back into focus and I look at her, “Of course. But, why you’d want to ask a girl you found on a mountainside with a glowing green hand is beyond me.”

      Cassandra gives a quick laugh, “We found you in a temple—not a mountainside.” I smile back, but her expression turns to stone, like usual. “Do you believe you are chosen?”

       The tankard stops inches from my mouth. I place but on the table and look at the woman. I swallow before answering, “I believe so, yes.”

      And it is the truth—I was raised by a religious family, I was to devote my life to the Chantry, to Andraste, to the Maker. It may not have been a life I wanted, but it was the only thing keeping my grounded. I prayed to the Maker every night before bed, to ask for something more in my life. It seems as though both the Maker and Andraste heard me.

      Cassandra nods, “And you believe in the Maker.”

      “I think the Maker had something to do with this. I mean… whatever is happening out there had to be someone’s doing. Sure, the Divine’s murderer had made that Breach. But what about this? The mark?” I hold my hand up. I turn away with a sigh. “I just don’t know anymore.”

      “I believe the Maker sent you here— and I believe Andraste was guiding you,” says Cassandra. “You are, after all, the only one who can close the Rifts. You are the one people call the Herald of Andraste. You are the rallying cry that will unite the people.”

      My eyes lock with her own dark eyes, “You really believe I can do this?”

      Cassandra nods, “I was quick to judge you when you came through the Rift, but the longer I stay with you, the more I see how wrong I was to call you prisoner. I think we all believe in you.”

      Cheers erupt and Varric holds his empty tankard in the air.

      “Ugh,” mutters Cassandra. “Forget about demons, he’ll die from drinking too much.”

      I smile and my eyes settle on Cullen, who claps Varric on the back. His sandy blonde hair is messy, but somehow it still manages to look so soft and curly.

      “Go,” Cassandra urges. “Go talk to him.”

      I whirl around to look at the woman, “ _Him_?” A small laugh escapes my lips. “I… I… why would I want to speak to him?”

      Cassandra takes a sip of her ale.

      “I mean, it’s not like I _don’t_ want to speak to him, but… I just… he’s busy.”

      “Busy?”

      “Yes. Busy drinking.”

      Cassandra glances at the Commander then back to me, “He’s finished his drink.”

      I clear my throat, “I, ah, I’m going to head back to my cabin. Today was quite the adventure.” Pushing my chair out, I stand, Cassandra doing the same.

      “I’ll escort you back,” she says.

      “Going already?” comes a voice. Varric and Cullen walk towards us.

      “Go, or we’ll never get out of here,” whispers Cassandra. She looks at the dwarf, “Yes Varric, some of us actually need sleep.”

      Varric raises an eyebrow, “Oh? Cullen and I were going to have another drink, if you’d like to join us.”

      Cassandra looks at me for help.

      I smile, “Sorry. We’re tired. Beauty sleep and all.”

      “Ah, suit yourselves,” growls Varric with a wave of his hand.

      “I’ll escort you back to your cabin, if you’d like,” says Cullen.                                 

      I cough, “Oh no, Cassandra’s already offered.”

      “No, you can take her,” says Cassandra.

      My eyes grow wide as I stare at her.

      “Come on,” she says, pushing me along with her.

      “It’s no fun drinking by myself,” says Varric, reluctantly following us out of the tavern.

      “I’m sure that’s never stopped you before,” I say with a smirk. My foot catches something and I feel myself falling yet again. My arms drop in front of me, but I’m caught before I manage to break something.

      Cullen’s hand is on my arm, the only thing stopping me from falling, “Maker’s breath, are you alright?”

      I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and ease away from him, “Yes. Fine. Great actually. I just didn’t see that rock.”

      Cullen’s hand is somehow still gently on my arm. He sees me staring at it and he pulls away, clearing his throat, “Well… I’m just glad you didn’t hurt yourself.”

      My eyes flick to Varric who’s trying not to laugh. He grins at me, “Stumbles here is supposed to save the world.”

      I feel the heat creeping up my neck like angry fingers, “Maybe I’ll trip into the Breach to seal it.”

      “If only it was that simple,” says Cassandra. “But then we’d have to pull you back out of the sealed Breach.”

      I smile, “Solas walks the Fade in his dreams, he could just pull me out.”

      We say our goodnights, the two men heading back to their own chambers.

      Cassandra gives me one last look.

      “Maker have mercy,” I mumble. I give Cassandra a look in return, “That’s why I didn’t want to speak to him.”

      “You were afraid you would trip?”

      “Something like that,” I say with a sigh. “I’m hopeless when it comes to attractive men.”

      She gives me a tight-lipped smile, “You got his attention though, isn’t that something?” She turns and heads back towards her own chambers.

      I let go of the breath I’ve been holding, the mist mingling in the cold air, “I got his attention for all the wrong reasons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd so the romance begins!


	11. Chapter 10

Val Royeaux, capital city of Orlais, one of the largest cities in Thedas and home to the Andrastian Chantry. And full of little shits.

      A woman, face hidden behind a mask, screams as we approach the large group in the middle of the city.

      Val Royeaux, it seems, is scared of us.

      Assembled just by the tall iron gates towards the docks are a bunch of Orlesians, gossiping and yelping amongst themselves. On a wooden stage stands a Chantry cleric, with Templars standing guard around her. She swings her arms, trying to make a point.

      I hear Cassandra let out an “ugh”, and I feel exactly the same way.

      The crowd gasps when they see us, but the cleric keeps ranting, “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn the Divine. Her beautiful heart was silenced by treachery.” The cleric’s eyes settle on me as I stand in front of the wooden stage. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more.”

      I can feel every pair of eyes turn to me and I swallow down the rising fear.

      “Behold! The so-called Herald of Andraste. The murderer of the Divine, claiming to rise where our beloved fell. It’s all false. No servant of anything beyond her selfish greed.”

      I look around before speaking. The eyes behind those masks glare at me and it takes all my strength not to run.

      Back at home, nobles had never treated me like this. I wasn’t their enemy.

      “We came in peace,” I yell over the hushed whispers, hoping to gain their attention. “We just want to talk. Please, let us sit down together… and deal with the real threat—the Breach could split the sky open any day now.”

      “It’s true,” says Cassandra, stepping up beside me. “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it’s too late.”

      “It I already too late!” snaps the cleric. She points at the group of Templars making their way towards the stage. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry. They will face this ‘Inquisition’, and we’ll be safe again.”

      The men leading the Templars doesn’t look happy. His grey hair is shoulder length, but it’s his emotionless blue eyes that send a shiver down my spine. He walks straight past the cleric, much to her surprise.

      But when she looks at the Templar behind the leader, he punches her.

      I jump back in shock and I hear Cassandra beside me let out a small gasp.

      The cleric herself falls to the wooden flooring, groaning—the other clerics cowering in fear. The Templar supposedly protecting the cleric glances at her then his leader.

      The grey-haired Templar nods, “She is beneath us.”

      I find my voice, “What was that for?”

      The Templar leader stares down at me, “Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own.”

      “Excuse me?”

      He storms from the stage and I let him. I’ve got nothing else to say. I rub my temple with a sigh, but see Cassandra move.

      She follows the Templar, “Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak with—”

      “You will not address me,” he says in such a casual tone that it makes me want to punch him. Right in the throat.

      “Lord Seeker?” asks Cassandra, her voice small.

      The Lord Seeker turns and stops, glaring at Cassandra, tempting me to actually punch him in the throat.

      “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed.”

      Cassandra’s face falls for a split second, but the walls are built high again, almost as fast as they crumpled.

      “If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late,” he says. “The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

      “We need an alliance to help close the Breach. Don’t you understand that?”

      “Oh the Breach is indeed a threat. But you certainly have no power to do anything about it,” the Lord Seeker says with a smug smile.

      I clench my fists.

      “Templars, Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march.” And with that, the Lord Seeker and his faithful followers march from the courtyard.

      “What an ass,” I mutter.

      Varric walks from the shop he so conveniently disappeared into, “Charming fellow.”

      “Has the Lord Seeker gone mad?” asks Cassandra, watching him leave with those dark eyes.

      “Well, it seems the Templars are out of the question,” I say.

      “I wouldn’t write them off so quickly. There would have to be some in the Order who see what he’s become,” says Cassandra.

      “Well Makers breath, I hope so.”

      Cassandra doesn’t say anything.

      “We should return to Haven,” says Varric, glancing at Cassandra. “The others will want to know of our…”

      “Fantastic way of dealing with the Templars?” I suggest.

      “Exactly.”

      Cassandra is already two steps ahead of us, so we scramble after her.

      A faint whistle brushes past my ear and slams into the stone pavement next to my feet. With a jolt, I realise it was an arrow that flew past my ear.

      I let out a small scream.

      “What was that?” asks Cassandra, whirling around to look at the arrow. “It’s got a message tied onto it.”

      I bend down and untie the small piece of parchment. Uncurling it, I take in the flowing hand writing and hold it so the others can read:

_Favors for Favor for Friends_

_People say you’re special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone._

_There’s a baddie in Val Royeaux, I hear he wants to hurt you._

 

“ _Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks and ‘round the café_?” reads Varric. “Who wrote this? A kid?”

      “Bring swords,” says Solas. “Are we expecting a fight?”

      “Well, I guess we are now,” I say.

      “Wait,” says Cassandra. “Is that… is that a phallic drawing?”

      I snort, looking at the little drawing in the corner. It certainly looks like that.

      Varric crosses his arms, “Oh, you would know, wouldn’t you Seeker? I’m sure you’ve seen plenty in your lifetime.”

      Cassandra’s head turns to Varric, her eyes burning in anger.

      Varric backs away, “Take it as a compliment, Seeker. It means you get around.”

      Solas watches the squabble with a slightly confused daze on his face.

      “Cause she has nothing else to do but _get around_ ,” I say. “Oh wait, saving the world may be more important than looking at men’s nether regions.”

      Cassandra looks just as lost as Solas, “Well, it’s not like I haven’t seen… oh Maker take me. Never mind. Let’s just find these red things.” She snatches the note from my hands and marches towards the docks.

      Varric turns to me and gives me a push before we both run after Cassandra.

      Rushing up a small flight of stones stairs, we reach the docks.

      “If I were a red thing, where would I be?” asks Varric.

      “Well, you could be any sort of red thing. An apple, a ribbon, armour, a scarf, cushions, hats…”

      “OK, we get the point Chuckles,” says Varric, rubbing his ears.

      The smell of fish fills my nostrils and I gag, turning towards the blue water gently lapping at the marble dock. Boats rock in the gentle waves, sea birds sitting lazily on the boat’s hulls.

      A cluster of barrels catches my attention and I move towards them. And sure enough, tangled in a fishing net is a red handkerchief. I pick the handkerchief up, praying to the Maker that is hasn’t been used. A small note and key fall into my hand.

      “Ah, the ol’ secret note passing technique. A wonderful tactic,” says Varric. “Until someone stumbles upon said secret note.”

      “It says _‘Key lifted from drunk swearing about the Herald. Don’t know what door. I’m out, my debt paid’_ ,” I read out.

      “Perhaps the other two locations will give us more information,” says Solas.

      I nod and we make our way towards the café. Various masked citizens waltz through the streets, glancing our way before moving along.

      The café is full of patrons, all enjoying cups of tea and plates of cakes. I pat the pockets of my armour and pull out a few gold coins. Before my companions can comment, I walk up to the food merchant and order four pieces of cake.

      The masked merchant gives me a sly smile then cuts the chocolate cake, handing the pieces to me on a plate.

      I thank him and bring the cake to my ever happy companions, “Here, I thought you’d might be hungry.”

      Varric grabs a piece, “Thanks Stumbles.”

      “The pleasure is all mine.”

      Solas takes one as well, his long spindly finger wrapping around it. He examines the cake and pops it into his mouth, “It is very moist.”

      Varric makes a face, but keeps his mouth shut from saying one of his crude jokes.

      I glance at Cassandra and smile, “Go on.”

      Her eyes flick to me then back to the cake, “Ugh. Fine.” She snatches the cake and takes a small bite.

      I do the same, biting into the chocolate goodness. And it is good, great actually. I finish the cake in two gulps, grinning.

      I even see Cassandra gulp her piece down.

      “Well, they don’t call you Herald of Andraste for nothing. You must have her touch in picking the good cakes,” says Varric.

      “Well, as long as my influence is put to good use.”

      “Herald,” comes Solas’ voice. “If I may point out something of importance.”

      I turn to him, “Of course Solas. What is it?”                                                               

      He point with his staff and I follow it. Nestled neatly under a table is another red handkerchief.

      I gasp, “Good spotting Solas.” Grabbing the small cloth from its hiding place, I pull the note from the cloth’s folds.

      “ _Thank you friends for helping good Lady Keris. Saw those who asked about Herald enter third passage. Could not stay to see them exit_.” I glance at Varric for an explanation.

      He just shrugs, “Don’t look at me Stumbles, I may be a writer, but I’ve got no idea what they’re talking about.”

      “What we do know is someone is watching you,” says Cassandra.

      “A comforting thought,” I mutter.

      “Come, we have one last clue to find,” says Solas.

      When we reach the upper market, my eyes flick straight to the red sock in the middle of the walkway, “Not very subtle.”

      Cassandra eyes the parchment, “It’s torn, but most of it’s legible: _…and we are to obey well. We meet at three bells to discuss how best to serve the new way.”_        

      “Three bells… meaning three in the afternoon?” I glance at the sun, “That’s soon.”

      “Wait there’s something else here,” urges Cassandra. “ _Herald go at time. Praise Adrast_.” She looks mortified, “ _Adrast_? What kind of spelling is this?”

      I snort, “Don’t make fun of people’s lack of education.”

      “So I’m guessing this key will allow us to go somewhere,” says Varric.

      “The third path,” says Solas.

      “I know where that is,” nods Cassandra. “Follow me.”

 

+++

 

“An alleyway?” I ask, taking in my surroundings. Around us are the back doors to various markets and brothels. Wooden crates are scattered around a large clearing. All away from the centre of Val Royeaux and in the darker parts of the Capital.

      I swallow the rising bile in my throat, “If this is a trap…”

      We round a corner and I’m surprised to see a group of mercenaries. They look just as shocked until one snaps back into action.

      “It’s the Inquisition’s Herald.”

      I spring into action, silencing the man before he can utter another word. My blade connects with his throat, splatting his blood against the grubby ground.

      I spin, just as Cassandra steps in front of me, blocking and attack with her shield. I yell a thanks and bound towards my next target.

      Solas flicks his staff, sending a bolt of ice straight through a man’s chest. I see him crumble to the ground.

      The archer lets an arrow fly and I duck behind a crate. The arrow hits the corner of the crate, stopping inches from my face. I reel back and flick my blade, sending another blade skittering to the ground.

      Gripping both of my weapons, I let out a scream as I hurl them towards the archer. Before he can comprehend my attack, the blades slam into him, one in his stomach, the other in his chest.                                                                                                          

      We stand in silence before Varric clears his throat, “I think that’s all of them.”

      I nod, retrieving my swords from the corpse.

      Cassandra slings her shield over her back, “Well done, they’re all gone.”

      Moving through the back alley, we come to a blue door, seemingly out of place from this dank alley. The sun has dipped behind the buildings, even if it’s only afternoon.

      I push the door open and step through, just as a fire ball comes straight towards me. Cassandra pulls me back and the fireball hits the wall beside my head.

      Another one heads straight for our group and we split. Though, I just duck under the fire, the heat skimming past my head.

      “Herald of Andraste. How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably.”

      “I don’t know who you are,” I say, walking towards the masked man. His golden mask glints in the light.

      “You don’t fool me! I’m too important for this to be an accident. My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere.”

      A scream rips through the air and I turn to see one of the man’s guards go down in a heap. An elf looks up from the body, bow and arrow pointed at the masked fellow.

      “Just say ‘what’!” she yells. And the arrow flies, right into the guy’s throat.

      “What?” I yell.  
      The man gurgles on his blood then falls silent.

      I examine the elf who may have just saved my life. Her blonde hair is messy, and so unevenly cut I have to wonder if that hairdresser is still in business. Her tunic is red, mismatched with a few leather patches. Her pants are a bright yellow, boots scuffed and dirty.

      “Eww,” she groans before slinging her bow over her shoulder. “Squishy one, but you heard me, right. ‘Just say what.’ Rich tits always try for more than they deserve.”

      “Rich… tits?”

      “Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!” she yells, retrieving the arrow from the body. “So you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you’re… you’re kinda plain, really. All that talk and you’re… just a person.”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “I mean, it’s all goo, innit? The important thing is you glow. You’re the Herald thingy?”

      “I am the Herald thingy, yes. But who are you and… what just happened?”

      “No idea, I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

      “Your people? Elves?”

      “No. _People_ people. Name’s Sera, this is cover, get round it.” She points to the wooden crate.

      “What?”

      “For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches.”

      “Seriously?” I ask, letting out a laugh.

      A bang interrupts what Sera is about to say and I dive towards the wooden crate. Men rush towards us, swords held high, bows and arrow nocked, but none of them wear pants.

      And I actually laugh. It’s the funniest thing that’s happened since before the Breach.

      The men try to attack, but some are too busy fixing their underclothes. I slash at a mercenary, cutting his unprotected legs and with a final stab, I slit his throat.

      Varric weaves around the men, nimble as a cat—much to my astonishment. Varric doesn’t strike me as a nimble person, even if he is small.

      But he catches hold of the back of a man’s undergarment and pulls it down to his ankles.

      The dwarf cackles, “There Seeker, your phallic symbol.”

      Cassandra huffs, sending the flat of her shield into a mercenary’s face, blood spurting from his now broken nose.

      The warrior doesn’t even respond, but I hear Sera chuckle, “Ew. Put that back in.”

      I block a sword coming straight to my face and turn, “Why didn’t you take their weapons?” I yell through gritted teeth, shoving the sword away.

      “Because no breeches,” says Sera as if it explains everything. Then she bursts into a fit of laughter, whilst managing to shoot an arrow straight into a man’s eye.

      The alleyway goes silent and I slot my weapons back into their sheath.

      Sera slings her bow over her back, “Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!” she laughs again. “So, Herald of Andraste. You’re a strange one, I’d like to join.”

      I blink, “Ah… um. Well, first of all, how about we get to know each other. You know, names and such.”

      “One name. No, wait, two. It’s… well, it’s like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That’s me. Well, I’m one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven, brothers or something. It’s just a name, yeah? It lets little people, ‘friends’, be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate.”

      “I’m confused.”

      “So here,” she says, without missing a beat. “In your face, I’m Sera. ‘The Friends of Red Jenny’ are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows.”

      I glance at Cassandra, but she urges me on with a raised eyebrow.

      “Well, Sera. What can you offer us?”

      “Here’s how it is: You ‘important’ people are up here, shoving your cods around,” she says moving her hands just above her head. “Blah, blah, I’ll crush you. _I’ll crush you_.” She starts making kissing sounds, “Oh _crush_ you.”

      I laugh, but a look from Cassandra silences me.

      “Ahem. Step down,” she continues, “you’ve got big lords with big purses like the tit we killed. His grand plan was ruined by scrap torn from his desk and a red sock. By someone who couldn’t read it. So no, I’m not Lord Poncyfart, all ruffled. But if you don’t listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards, I stole their… look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you, yeah?”                                                                                                                                 

      I smile, “Alright Sera. I’m sure we could use someone like you—and your friends.”

      “Yes,” she squeals. “Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be.”

      “I’m glad to hear that.”

      “Plus extra breeches, ‘cause I have all these… you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there Herald. This will be grand.”

      Before I can say anything else, the girl scampers off, muttering something about bees.

      I look at Cassandra but she just shrugs, “Come we best be getting back to Haven.”

 

+++

 

“Excuse me? If I may have a moment of your time,” comes a voice. I turn just as we reach the gates to Val Royeaux.

      An elf walks towards us, black hair tied back in an intricate braid. Her robes are that of a mages attire.

      Cassandra cocks her head and eyes widen in realization, “Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

      My own eyes widen. She looks frail and small, too weak to be a Grand Enchanter.

      Solas steps forward, “Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

      “I heard of this gathering and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes.”

      “Believe me, there’s not much to see.”

      The Grand Enchanter’s green eyes skim over me, “If it’s help with the Breach you seek, perhaps my people are the wiser option.”

      “You want to help us?”

      “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. AN alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au Revoir, my Lady Herald.” She turns and heads back to the Capital, blending in with the afternoon masses.

      “Come,” says Cassandra, her eyes following the Grand Enchanter’s. “Let us return to Haven.”

 

+++

 

Night has fallen by the time we reach Haven and my limbs are stiff and tired. My eyes struggle to stay open and I want nothing more than to sleep. In my own bed. Back in Ostwick. With my family.

      But I know it’s wishful thinking. After all, we’ve still got to close the Breach.

      “Let us go to the Chantry,” says Cassandra.

      I rub my eyes and give her a small nod.

      “You are free to rest after,” she adds.

      Varric and Solas leaves us, tending to their duties.

      Pushing the Chantry doors open, we hardly take a few steps when I hear a gasp.

      I see Josephine, still wearing her yellow and purple dress, stand from her chair, “It’s good you’ve returned. We heard of your encounter.”

      “You heard?” asks Cassandra.

      Cullen and Leliana stand from their seats, joining us.

      “My agents in the city sent word ahead,” says the spymaster.

        Cullen nods, “It’s a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the Captain.”

      I look away from his brown eyes, “We had to do something… and now we have an opportunity.” I continue walking, wanting to tell them off the Grand Enchanter.

      “Yes, as we have the opening we need to approach the Templars and the mages,” says Josephine as we continue towards the War Room.

      Cassandra scowls, “Do we? Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

      “True,” says Leliana. “He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been… very odd.”

      “We must look into it,” suggests Cullen. “I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

      “Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead,” says Josephine.

      Cullen stops and I nearly walk into him.

      “You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse,” he says, voice strained.

      “Or you could stop bickering and make a decision,” I say. All eyes turn to me and I feel as though I shouldn’t have said it. But… we have to work together, not fight.

      “I agree,” says Cassandra, surprising me. I share a look with her.

      “We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk,” says Josephine.

      “They are powerful, Ambassador. But more desperate than you realise,” says Cassandra.

      “You think the invitation could be some kind of trap?” I ask.

      “If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…”

      “The same could be said about the Templars,” cuts Josephine. Though she seems calm.

      “True enough,” comes Cullen’s voice. “I’m not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely.”

      “Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places,” says Cassandra. She turns to me, “That’s something you can help with.”

      “In the meantime, we should consider other options,” says Josephine.

      And with that, the group disbands for the night. Cullen gives me a nod, while Cassandra just leaves.

      Leliana stays though, “There is one other matter. Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is… curious.”

      “It does seem a little suspicious,” I say.

      “The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

      I nod, rubbing my eyes, “And if he can’t?”

      “Then there may be more going on than we thought. But, for now, I’ll leave you be. It is late.” She turns to leave.

      “Good night, Leliana.”

      “Rest well, Herald. We have busy times ahead of us,” I hear her say as she makes leave for her chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of Sera's dialogue is the funniest thing I've never heard, I just couldn't wait to write her in :D


	12. Chapter 11

And rest well I did.

      A banging on the door wakes me with a start and Cassandra pushes the door open, “Herald?”

      I let out a yelp, “I’m awake!”

      Cassandra steps inside and shuts the door, turning her head, “I’m sorry I startled you.”

      “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” I say with a smile. Shrugging off the warm covers, I shiver as the cool air hits my skin.

      Cassandra just fastens her sheath to her belt and fixes her shield over her back, “I’m glad to see you wearing that tunic for sleeping in.”

      I look down at the beige tunic, with golden buttons done up to my throat, “Well, I wasn’t going to sleep naked.”

      Cassandra lets out a small laugh, “I gave you those to wear for casual appearances—when armour is not needed.”

      I smile, “Next time, I’ll make sure I wear it to the tavern.”

      That earns me a look.

      I reluctantly leave my bed and grab my armour, “So where are we headed today?”

      Cassandra sighs, “Leliana is insistent on going to find the Grey Warden she told you about. I think it would be best to find him today.”

      “If it will help, I’ll be happy to find him.”

      “And…” Cassandra begins. She leans against the doorway and holds out a piece of parchment.

      “A letter?” I ask, grabbing it as I duck behind an oak dressing screen.

      “An invitation,” comes Cassandra’s voice.

      I glance at the letter as I slip on a cotton top and pants—just so my armour doesn’t rub against my skin.

      Unfolding it, I read it out loud, _“You are cordially invited to attend my salon held at the Chateau of Duke Bastien De Ghislain.”_ I struggle to pronounce his last name and let out a laugh.

      “Keep going,” urges Cassandra. “Who is it from?”

      _“Yours, Vivenne De Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, Enchanter of the Imperial Court._ It’s tonight… _”_ I finish tugging at the latches on my armour and step away from the dressing screen. Cassandra hands me my swords and I tug the sheath around my torso. “I guess we should go.”

      “We? You were the one invited.”

      “I’m not going by myself.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because what if we’re attacked? And I’ll… I’ll look like a loner.”

      Cassandra purses her lips together, “Count me out.”

      “On come on.”

      We walk together, heading towards the stables, “Varric should already be up.”

      “And Solas too,” I add, noting her change in subject. And the topic being about Varric…

      We reach the stables, and I throw a pack over my horse’s saddle. I pat its black fur and feed it an apple. My stallion gulps it down and whickers.

      Varric and Solas are both ready, their weapons slung over their backs, horses saddled and packs packed. Sera lazily sits on the wooden fence, swinging her feet.

      “Ah, Seeker. Glad you’re finally awake. I was scared I’d have to get you up myself,” says Varric, a glint in his eyes.

      Cassandra scowls, “It was the Herald who slept in.”

      “Guilty,” I say, holding my hands up. “Sera, what are you doing.”

      Her hands wave at her nose, “It smells like horse.”

      “You _are_ sitting on right next to a stable.”

      “Guilty,” she copies.

      The Commander, Josephine and Leliana come to say their good byes.

      “Be careful,” says Cullen, glancing at me.

      I nod, “When am I not careful?”

      “Well, the way you stumble over things when you walk, is quite worrying,” says Varric as his mounts his white horse.

      I grunt and pat my black stallion’s neck, “I’ve never been sure-footed.”

      “I can tell.”

      Mounting my horse, I wave to the three advisers.

      “Excuse me?” comes a voice.

      Walking towards us is a young man, dressed in heavy steel armour, brown hair combed to the side. He nods at me, “I have a message for the Inquisition.”

      “Who are you?” I ask, dismounting.

      Cassandra stands beside me.

      “Cremisuis Aclassi, with the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company. We’ve got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander Iron Bull offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work. I’ll leave you to decide.”

      And with that, he leaves us, running back to his mount and galloping away.

      I look at Cassandra, “Another possible recruit?”

      “It would be best to see what the company can do.”

      I nod, “Storm Coast it is then.”

      Leliana steps forward, “My agents have already set up a camp near the coast line. Scout Harding will meet there.”

 

+++

 

“Your Worship,” says Scout Harding after we dismount. “For what it’s worth, welcome to the Storm Coast.”

      I glance around, taking note of my surroundings. Green shrubs and trees surround us. Pebbles shift underneath my feet, wet from the rain. And the rain, not heavy, but it never seems to end. The sky is shrouded in grey clouds, blocking the much needed sun. The whole place just seems miserable.

      Scout Harding smiles, “I hear the sea air is good for your soul.”

      Varric laughs, “I hope so.”

      “Iron Bull and his company are just down the path—the mercenaries are already fighting them.”

      I nod, “Thanks Harding.” Turning, I slide my swords from the sheath. “Let’s go help them.”

      “Your Worship?” says Harding, her voice small. “Would it be alright if I joined your group—just for this fight? I want to keep my combat skills fresh.”

      “Of course,” I say. “Let’s go.”

      We walk down the pebbled path, Harding stringing her bow. I glance at Varric and wink at him, but he just rolls his eyes.

      Something slips from under my boot and my foot slides out from under me. I land on my butt and skid down the wet path just to make it even more graceful.

      Varric bursts out laughing, while Scout Harding looks as though it was her fault and Solas’ slender eyebrows rise.

      Cassandra sighs and holds out a hand, which I take. In one easy haul, she pulls me to my feet, “Varric do not laugh at the Herald. She just lost her footing.”

      “Stumbles is always losing her footing.”

      I manage a smile, even though my butt hurts, “At least it was a graceful fall.”

      “I wouldn’t count on it.”

      “Well, I’m sorry, us taller _people_ fall at a bigger height than you dwarves.”

      That gets me a smile, “Oh that hurts.”

      “Ugh, can we please keep moving, I can see the group,” says Cassandra.

      I reach behind and slide my daggers from the leather sheath, with a glance at my team. They nod back and we run down the hill—careful not to trip. I can hear the slashing and bashing of weapons, a large group fighting near the coastline. Waves crash up against the pebbled shore, the sea spray hitting my face.

      So we rush into battle, the Tevinter mercenaries struggling against the added team. I slash at a mercenary, but his helmet stops any heavy damage and he leaps backwards. The mercenary brings his sword up, swinging it towards my head. I block it with the flat of one of my daggers, my shoulder jolting from impact. My fingers flip my other dagger around, reversing my grip on the weapon and I slash it across the mercenary's stomach. He yells in pain before falling face first into the sand.

      Pain shoots through my arm and I jerk back, eyes flicking to the cut on my arm then to the mercenary who inflicted it.

      “Bastard,” I spit. But before I can fight back, a massive war axe smashes into his head. I leap back, a scream escaping my lips.

      “But worry, Bull’s got ya.” The war axe wielder straightens, a grin plastered on his face. He seems happy to have killed the last enemy. The Qunari is at least seven feet tall, his horns almost as big us my arms. And his arms almost as big as my legs. An eye patch is slung across his face, hiding one eye. His grey skin is crisscrossed with various scars.

      “Alright Chargers, stand down,” the Qunari yells.

      Varric, Cassandra and Solas stand beside me, while Scout Harding begins refilling her quiver.

      “Krem, how’d we do?”

      A lad, the same one who came to us at Haven, stands with his hands clasped behind his back, “Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.”

       “That’s what I like to hear. We can break out the casks,” bellows the Qunari.

      Krem nods and heads towards the barrels.

      The Qunari turns to me, “So you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a sit. Drinks are coming.”

      I smile, “Iron Bull, I assume.”

      “The horns give it away,” grunts the big man. “I assume you remember Cremisus Aclassi, my Lieutenant.”

      Krem stands beside me and nods. But I see his eyes drift. Scout Harding stands, fixing her armour with a smile, oblivious to his stare. Krem watches her then quickly turns back to me.

      He clears his throat, “Ah. Good to see you again.”

      I nod, “And you.”

      “I’ll get them drinks ready,” he says, leaving, but not without a look to Harding.

      “So…” says Iron Bull. “You’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive. But we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us. Your ambassador… what’s her name—Josephine—we’d go through her and get payments set up.”

      I look at Cassandra, but she inclines her head. It’s my decision.

      “Well, the Chargers seem like an excellent company.”

      “You’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline body guard. I’m your man. Whatever it is—demons, dragons. The bigger the better.” He pauses. “And there’s one other thing. Something that might piss you off. Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

      “Can’t say I have.”

      “It’s a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically. We’re spies. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition…”

      “Go on,” I urge.

      “I need to get close to the people in charge and send reports back. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. I’ll share the reports I get if you hire me.”

      “So… you’re a spy?”

      “The Breach is bad. It needs to be stopped. I’m on your side.”

      A smile spreads across my lips, “Consider yourself and your company hired.”

      “Excellent,” he says, grinning back. “Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired.”

      “What about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With axes.”

      “Well, find a way to seal them, you’re Tevinter right. Try blood magic. We’ll meet you back at Haven, I understand you have another job to attend to.”

     

+++

 

Next stop: Hinterlands. Leliana’s agents have tracked Blackwall to a small cabin near Lake Luthias. A group of man, skinny and lanky hold weapons and shields in their hands. Standing in front of them is a stocky man, a thick black beard covering his chin and black hair falling down to the nape of his neck.

      “Remember how to carry your shields. You’re not hiding, you’re holding. Otherwise it’s useless.”

      “Blackwall?” I ask. “Warden Blackwall?”

      He turns and storms towards me, “You’re not—how do you know my name? Who sent—” In a flourish, his shield comes up and an arrow tip pierces through the wood. He keeps his arm up, eyes blazing, “Help or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first.”

      I snap out of my shock and swing into action. The skinny men Blackwall was training charge into battle, raising their shields and swords. I leap forward and tuck myself arms and legs in, somersaulting as another arrow whizzes past my head. Cassandra yells and strikes at an enemy—bandits by the look of their armor. Varric twirls around her, a well-aimed bolt hitting its mark: the bandit’s chest.

       Blackwall turns and I move with him, both our swords cutting through a poor bandit.

      The trainees take down the last one.

      I step away from Blackwall, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he thrusts his sword tip into the ground and kneels beside one of the bodies.

      “Sorry bastards.” He stands and nods at his recruits, “Good work, conscripts. Even if this shouldn’t have happened. They could’ve… well thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You’ve saved yourselves.”

       The recruits leave, chatting happily amongst themselves about who made the last blow.

      I turn to Blackwall, his dark eyes watching me.

      “You’re no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?”

      Clearing my throat, I find my voice, “I know your name because I’m an agent of the Inquisition. I’m investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine.”

      “Maker’s balls. The Wardens and the Divine? That can’t—no, you’re asking, so you don’t really know. First off, I didn’t know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten.”

      I look at the ground, “I… I’m not sure. I was only 12 when the last Blight ended.”

      “One thing I’ll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose is not political.”

      “Hey, I’m not accusing anyone. Not yet… we’re just simply looking for answers—information. So far though, I’ve only found you. The others… well, where are the rest?”

      “I haven’t seen any Wardens for months. I travel, alone, recruiting. Though… there haven’t been many recruits. Those farmers… I had conscripted them when those bandits forced a fight. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won’t need me. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are.” His eyes darken, frown lines hidden beneath his beard.

      Grey Wardens meant everything to me when I was a child—I wanted to be one. The Queen of Fereldan, Breinne, and her King Alistair were people I looked up to—they had stopped the Blight after all. No one forgot about those two when the Blight ended.

      I sign, “Well, thank you for your time… but this didn’t help at all. Sorry for disturbing you, Warden Blackwall.” Turning, I nod at the others to get going.

      Cassandra sheaths her sword and walks beside me.

      “Inquisition… agent, did you say?” comes his deep voice. I turn to Blackwall. “Hold a moment.” He runs towards us, “The Divine is dead. And the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put thing right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”

      I smile, “Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.”

      The Warden nods in thanks, “Good to hear. We both need to know what’s going on. And perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself too long.”

      “There’s always company at Haven. I’m sure Varric’s up for a drink in the tavern anytime.”

      “The serving maids always have my drinks ready for when I arrive,” grins Varric.

      That gets us a smile, “Very well. Perhaps a drink later. I will travel to Haven right away.”

 

 

+++

 

“You’re only 22?” comes a voice from beside me. We ride towards Val Royeaux, much to Cassandra’s dislike. The woman is staring at me now, gently swaying with the rock of her horse.

      My eyebrows shoot up, “Yes… why? Is that a surprise to you?”

      “Well, I thought you would be older… perhaps late 20’s at the most.”

      “I don’t look that old, do I?’                                                                                         

      “The Seeker always has trouble picking someone’s age. She thought I was 50,” says Varric, his voice floating from behind us.

      I turn to him, “You’re _not_ 50?”

      “I know, hard to believe,” mutters Cassandra.

      Varric’s lips press together, “Oh come on. No, I’m only 34.”

      “Still older than me,” I say with a smile. Turning back to Cassandra, I examine her. The woman’s jaw line is very distracting, though her cheek bones aren’t far behind. They could cut me in half. The short black hair has that braided crown through it—the only thing that really shows her girlish side. Other than that, she seems to wear her armour all day, maybe even to bed. Her dark eyes move to stare at my own green ones, “What?”

      “You’re 30.”

      A bark of laughter escapes her lips, “No. Not even close.”

      “Really?” I say. “No way.”

      She just purses her lips.  
      “Older or younger?”

      She seems to hesitate for a second. But she give me a sigh, “Older.”

      “34—same age as Varric?”

      “Older… but only by a few years,” Cassandra says, with a small smile.

      “37?”

      She doesn’t answer.

      “You’re 37? Wow… and you’re… you’re the Hero of Orlais right? My grandmother told me stories about you.”

      “Ugh, that was what… 18, no 20 years ago.”

      “Wow, Seeker, I didn’t know you were that old,” says Varric.

      Cassandra’s eyes flash, “I’m not _old_.”

      “Sorry… not old then. Just, mature.”

      “Yes. That’s a better word.”

      “Mature…” I say. “So you _have_ gotten around then. I mean in your 37 years, there had to be someone right?”

      “And in your 22 years, has there been someone for you?”

      I blink, “I… um… no.”

      Cassandra keeps her eyes in front, “We are nearing the Capital. And the salon will be beginning soon.”

      The giant iron gates of the Capital peek out of the horizon, statues of bronze lions glinting in the lowering sun.

      “Now, act casual, Cassandra. We don’t want nobles impaled with your sword.”

      A snort escapes my throat, “We don’t want any nobles impaled by your _sword_ , Varric.”

      “Geez, what do you see me as, Stumbles?”

      “The chest hair?”

      “Oh, yeah. That get all the ladies. Dwarf, human and Qunari.”

      “Ugh.”

      Solas just rides his horse, watching the landscape around us.

 

The Chateau is gloriously large, blue curtains draped along the floor to ceiling windows, blocking out the view of the salon. But music can be heard floating from the house, soft, and certainly beautiful.

      Various nobles enter through the huge blue doors, glancing our way, their eyes peering at us from behind their masks.

      The tiles are polished, the marble pillars shining in the candlelight.

      “Let’s just get this over with,” mutters Cassandra. Her hands are clenched at her sides, knuckles white. Her eyes flick to the people around us, nervously. Balls were a common thing for a Trevelyan—there would be one as least every month. But Cassandra, Seeker of Truth, warrior and Hero of Orlais looks as though she would bolt at any second. The nobles scare her—even though she’s Nevarran royalty.

      I place a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll see who this First Enchanter is and then leave.”

      She nods.

      Being the centre of attention certainly isn’t her strong point. She’s practically hiding behind her shield and sword. 

      Varric stays close to her though, which I’m glad for. Cassandra would be least likely to bolt that way.

      A man reads a scroll—the invitation list, “Lady Trevelyan of the Inquisition. And her… followers.”

      “Companions, if you would,” I say to the man.

      He inclines his head and backs away.

      We walk to the centre of the Chateau, where a water fountain is bathed in a blue light. A banquet stands pushed up against the wall, filled with all sorts of foods and beverages.

      “A pleasure, Lady Trevelyan and your companions. We so barely have a chance to meet anyone new.” The man’s face is covered by a mask, so I can’t read his expression. He may be mocking us. So you must be a guest of Madame De Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

      “Are you here on business?” asks his partner. “I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true.”

      “Oh, I’m sure they’ve all been exaggerated,” I say modestly. The first rule my father taught me about the game is to be modest. People like you a lot more when you act nice.

      “The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit,” comes a voice. Walking down the stairs is a man, masked like everyone else. Washed up Sisters and crazed Seekers…?” his eyes flick to Cassandra and a ripple of anger flows through me. What right does he have to call her crazed? “No one can take them seriously.”

      I watch as the man waltzes over to banquet table, plucks an apple from a golden plate and takes a bite from it, “Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power, _Trevelyan_.”

      My eyes narrow, “I’m searching for Divine Justinia’s killer.”

      “Of course you are. I’m sure your army is out scouting the hills for her murderer as we speak.”

      “Well, it is supper time, so they may be on their break right now.”

      The man scoffs, “We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is. If you were a true Lady of honour—a Trevelyan, a _Herald_ —you’d step outside and face the charges.”

      A flash blinds me for a second and when I blink, the man is covered in _frost_. His arms are frozen in clenched fists, like he’s ready to fight me. His eyes still move around, burning with hate as he watches me.

      “My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my home… to my guests,” says a woman, waltzing down the stairs in graceful steps. Her brown skin glows in the candlelight, robes swirling around her as she walks, hugging her slender frame. Though her face is hidden beneath a mask, with metal horns curling from it, I can tell she doesn’t look impressed. Her posture and fashion suggest a high player in the game.

      Her voice is velvety smooth, “You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

      “Madame Vivenne,” he chokes. “I humbly beg your pardon.”

      She walks past the paralyzed man, “And so you should. Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?”

      He doesn’t answer.

      The First Enchanter turns to me, “My Lady, you are the wounded part in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man.”

      I stare at her. She’s asking for my opinion? What options do I have? “Ah… I… I think the Marquis has seen the error in his ways.”

      “By the grace of Andraste, you have your life, my dear. Do be more careful with it,” she clicks her fingers and the Marquis snaps from his frozen prison. He nods in thanks then stalks off. And can almost see him bristling in anger.

      The First Enchanter turns to me, “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering. I’ve so wanted to meet you.” She begins walking and I follow her, Cassandra, Varric and Solas close behind. She leads us to a hallway, just a door away from the main party. A window sits open, a light breezing tugging at the open curtains.

      “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne. Fist Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchanter to the Imperial Court.”

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Vivienne. Lydia Trevelyan. Ah, Herald of Andraste.”

      “I didn’t invite you to the Chateau for pleasantries. With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people.”

      Her voice is calm, her dark eyes set on mine.

      “As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

      I swallow, not breaking eye contact with her. We could do with a loyal mage in our Inquisition. After all, we need all the help we can get. Clearing my throat, I nod, “The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne.”

      “Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long chapter, I just really wanted to recruit all of the companions so I can get on with the rest of the story, so hopefully it won’t be as tedious to read now!! So, next part will be seeing the mages in Redcliffe—then Lydia and her ever faithful companions will decide who to help: Templars or mages!


	13. Chapter 12

“I’ll start on cooking dinner,” says Vivienne. “I certainly know how to cook a good stew.”

      “First watch,” yells Varric, hefting Bianca over his shoulder. “Seeker and Stumbles, you’re on tent duty.”

      I groan, “Leave us with the bad option.”

      Cassandra grunts, “Varric won’t last long. One shadow will send him straight back.”

      “My dears, cooking dinner is quite the ordeal. You must please everyone’s palates,” says Vivienne, placing a pot on the rack above the fire.

      Cassandra blinks, but doesn’t say anything.

      And so the two of us set about pitching the tents. Vivienne’s, hand-made in Val Royeaux, is the biggest of the tents. Slowly though, it comes together. I’m determined to make sure it’s suitable for the posh First Enchanter. Cassandra unrolls a large bed roll and places it in the middle of the tent.

      She looks at me, “I don’t understand why she can sleep in luxury. And Varric…”

      “Well, Miss Posh Pants did say she wanted a tent to herself. And we must obey. We could only fit three tents in our packs.”

      The warrior’s delicate eyebrow rises, “I wanted a tent to myself.”

      “Oh come on, I’m not that bad. I don’t move that much.”

      Cassandra lets out a small laugh, moving to pitch the next tent, “I’m sure you’re right.”

      “OK, would you rather be in a tent by yourself and have me sharing with Varric?”

      “I will not put you through that pain.”

      “Good.”

      I stop tying the hide tent to the pole and look at Cassandra. Her face is shadowed by the fire behind her, but her dark eyes are on me.

      “Why are you smiling?”

      “I was thinking,” I say with a grin. “How about I take the other tent and you and Varric share?”

      She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, “You know how that would end for Varric.”

      I smile, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I am the Herald of Andraste, after all. I should be allowed my own tent.”

      Her faith in the Maker is very passionate. And she certainly wouldn’t argue with the chosen Herald.

      “If that is what you wish.”

      “I’m kidding Cassandra. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

      She smiles, “Good.” Though her eyes drift to the dwarf as he marches around the camp, making enough noise to scare any enemy away.

 

“Dinner is served, my darlings. Come and get something to eat,” calls Vivienne.

      Cassandra and I finish off the last tent and I bolt towards the fire, glad to finally have something to eat.

      Vivienne hands out the bowls and we sit on the cool grass, eager to start eating.

      Varric takes a sniff of his meal, “Smells good. What is it?”

      “Druffalo and vegetable stew. With a touch of honey.”

      The stew is actually very good, though I’m not sure how Vivienne managed to cook it—she would be used to having kitchen staff cooking her meals.

      “So Lydia Trevelyan, if this wasn’t how you were spending you night, where would you be now?” asks Vivienne.  
      I blink, the fork dropping into my bowl. I look at the Enchanter, “I… er. I’d be home.”

      She nods, “As would we all.”

      “Having dinner perhaps. With mother and father.”

      “Any siblings?”

      “Two brothers, one younger and the other two years older than me. Brandon and Augustus.” I smile as their faces appear in my mind.

      “If you are anything to go by, than I’m sure they are lovely men.”

      My eyes drop to the fire, “Augustus is always chasing the women in court. And Brandon…” a laugh escapes my lips, “He’d be torturing our wet nurse, no doubt.”

      “Ah, a trouble maker?”

      “Certainly. And… and a young mage.”

      “A young mage? Why dear, that is dangerous in times like these.”

      “I know,” my eyes stay on the dancing flames, not wanting to look at any of them. They can think what they will. Brandon is still my little brother.

      “I would be in the tavern, most likely,” says Varric. “A nice cold ale would be great at this time.”

      And so we continue chatting and eating under the stars. But my thoughts keep returning to my family. Are they wondering where I am right now? Josephine has sent word to them, though I’m sure they would know I’ve been dubbed Herald of Andraste. Gossip spreads quickly over in Ostwick. I hope mother would be proud.

      The moon sits up in the night sky and Vivienne excuses herself for the night. Cassandra glances at me, but I shake my head, “You rest too.”

      She seems to hesitate, but then stands, heading to our tent.

      Varric watches her leave, firelight flickering through his eyes.

      “I’ll tell you if she sleeps in her armour,” I say.

      Varric’s eyes return to me, a smile crawling to his face. Though I can tell it’s forced, “She never takes armour off.”

      We sit is silence, watching the flames.

      Biting my lip, I turn back to Varric, “How did you and Cassandra meet?”

      Varric laughs, “That is a long story.”

      “Well, I love stories.”

      Varric sighs, “We _met_ a year ago. Though, I wouldn’t say met. More like, I was captured and held against my will as she interrogated me.”

      “She bound you?”

      “Maker no. I was allocated a nice, comfortable chair, while she asked me questions.”

      “That doesn’t seem too rough.”

      That earns me a look, “Oh you don’t know how frightening she can be when she’s angry. When she’s angry _and_ wanting answers.”

      “What answers was she looking for?”

      “You don’t know?”

      “Well… I was kind of caught up in life…”

      “She wanted me to tell her where Hawke was.”

      I blink, “You mean the Champion of Kirkwall?”

      “Ah, so you weren’t _that_ busy.”

      “I’ve read Tales of the Champion before.”

      “A reader are you?”

      “I do like to read, yes. There’s never anything else to do. But, please, continue.”

      “Cassandra wanted to know where Hawke was after the Chantry was blown up by Anders. They needed her.” His voice is quiet now, so quiet I have to lean in to hear. “They ran away together—Hawke and Anders.”

      “What about the rest of you… of Hawke’s friends?”

      “They went their separate ways.”                                                                                 

      I glance at the tent Cassandra disappeared into, “At least she’s stopped interrogating you. Though, you both seem to argue with each other.”

      Varric snorts, “We aren’t the best of friends. No matter how hard I try.” I snap back to him and see Varric trying hard to pull his wits back, “Well, I know we’ll probably never be good friends, but it’s always worth a try.”

      “Keep trying,” I say. “Who knows. She may need a friend.”

      “She’s already got one.”

      “Who?”

      “You.”  
      “Me? I’m almost two decades younger than her. I wouldn’t know why she’d want to be friends with me.”

      “She seems to like you. I mean, she hasn’t interrogated you yet.”

      “I hope it stays that way. Though she did almost kill me when we first met.”

      Varric laughs and glances at the moon, “You better get some rest. I’ll stay watch.”

      “Call me when you want to sleep.”

      “I will Stumbles.”

      Easing my way to my feet, I walk to the tent, but stop, “Varric?”

      “Yes?”

      “I think you two would be great friends. You’ve just got to get past all that armour.” And with that, I duck inside the tent. Cassandra herself is curled up in her bed roll, sound asleep.

      I smile and notice her armour tucked away in the corner.

      It seems she doesn’t sleep with it on.

      With one last glance at Varric through the flap of the tent, I curl up in my own bed roll and sleep finds me easily.

 

+++

 

As we walk through Redcliffe Village, I try to stop my hands from shaking. First visit to the Village, and a Rift blocked our way. As always, we managed to close the Rift with no problem. But this one was different. It seemed to speed up time and to slow it down. I don’t know how it managed to do that, but it sends a shiver down my spine just thinking about it.

      And now, it seems as though Grand Enchanter Fiona doesn’t remember talking to us in Val Royeaux. An Inquisition scout had told us that no one in the Village was expecting us. And according to a rebel mage, a Magister Alexius is in charge—though what happened to Fiona is unknown.

      I thought having Vivienne with me might ease the tension, but it seems so messed up we may not even get to speak with the mages.

      We reach the tavern where negotiations are to be made with this Magister. The people watch us wearily, and Cassandra keeps a hand on her hilt, ready for anything.  

      Entering, I take in our surroundings. The tavern is small, cozy even. A fire burns in the hearth, flickering orange light across the tavern.

      Grand Enchanter Fiona glares at us, her green eyes burning, “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition. What has brought you to Redcliffe?” Her voice is tight but her eyes flick to Vivienne, “First Enchanter Vivienne.”

      “My dear Fiona. It’s been so long since we last spoke. You look dreadful. Are you sleeping well?”

      I blink. There goes Vivienne’s help. My eyes flick to Cassandra than back to the Grand Enchanter. I clear my throat, getting her attention, “You traveled all to way to Val Royeaux and invited us to meet you here to discuss… the Breach.”

      “You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

      “I… Someone exactly like you spoke to me in Val Royeaux, a few days ago.”

      “Exactly like me? I suppose it could be magic at work, but why would anyone…” she hesitates. “Whoever or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The Free mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

      “An alliance with Tevinter?” asks Cassandra. “Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?”

      Varric scoffs, “Andraste’s ass… I’m trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I’ve got nothing.”

      I watch for the Enchanter’s reaction, but she doesn’t say anything.

      And Vivienne also stays quiet, though I do see her hands tense.

      “As one indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you,” says the Enchanter.

       “An alliance with the Tevinter is a terrible mistake.”

      Fiona shakes her head, sadness drawing across her features, “All hope of peace died with Justinia. This bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we _had_ no choice. We are losing this war. I needed to save as many of my people as I could.”

      The tavern door opens, sending a flurry of wind through the tavern. I turn as the door slams shut and walking towards us is the man I presume to be the Magister.

      His robes are red and lightly armoured. His hood bears three prongs that look suspiciously like a crown. His smile is slimly and my neck prickles under his gaze. And a boy, no older than I walks behind him, head down.

      “Welcome, my friends,” bellows the Magister. “I apologies for not greeting you earlier.”

      “Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.”

      “The southern mages are under my command. And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

      His voice makes me want to hurl a drink at him. And the way his eyes roam up and down my body. I’m just glad I have armour on.

      “If you’re leading the mages now, then let’s talk. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.

      “It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable Lady,” he beckons me to sit down at one of the tables and I follow.

      “Felix,” says Alexius. “Would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.”

      I glance at the boy and he bows to me, smiles and teeth flashing. Without a word, he turns and talks quietly with a mage.

      “I am not surprised you’re here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt,” continues Alexius. “There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.”

      I stare into the Magister’s eyes, “Does that mean you’ll lend your mages to help our case?”

      “There will have to be—” Alexius’ eyes drift to Felix, who is limping towards us.

      Felix tries to keep a straight face, but pain is clearly etched in his expression.      

      I stand quickly, Alexius doing the same. And Felix collapses into my arms.

      I struggle to hold his weight, but trying to keep him upright is my main concern.

      “Felix?” yells Alexius, and it’s quite clear how much the Magister cares for his son.

      Felix seems to come to as I sit him on the floor, “My Lady. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He still holds my hand.

      “Are you alright son?”

      “I’m fine, father,” Felix assures. He clutches his stomach, far from fine.

      “Come, I’ll get your powders. Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time.” Alexius takes his son by the shoulders and Felix’s hand slips from mine. I clench my fist.

      They walk towards the door, “Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle.”

      Fiona grudgingly follows the Magister, Felix close behind.

      “I don’t mean to trouble everyone,” mumbles Felix, giving me one last look.

      “I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date,” says Alexius.

      When the mages leave, I look down at my clenched fist. A note, scrawled on a torn piece of paper is crumpled in my hand, placed there when Felix fell.

      Patrons begin filing into the tavern, yelling and laughing, the meeting finally over.

      Cassandra gasps, “He gave you a note?”

      _“You’re in danger. Come to the Chantry,”_ I read out.

      Looking at Cassandra, her eyes are wide, “We best go to the Chantry then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Hushed Whispers wasn't going to be the quest that I picked, as I had chosen to aid the Templars in my first playthrough. But after a second playthrough with a mage, I thought I'd give this one a go and I loved it so much!! I think the character development was much better than the Templar quest!! Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	14. Chapter 13

I’m not sure what to expect at the Chantry, but a million situations race through my mind as we walk. It could be a trap. Made by who though is still the question. Why are we even in danger? What does Felix have to do with this?

      I push open the Chantry doors open, steeling the last of my nerves.

      And I’m greeted with a mage, handsome and regel, punching a demon. He twirls his staff and the demon dissipates into goo.

      A Rift shifts behind him, sending the Chantry into a green gloom.

      The man glances at the pile of goo and turns to us. His skin is tanned, hair black and moustache styled in a very noble way.

      “Ah, good! Finally you decide to turn up. Now help me close this, would you?”

      I stand there gaping, but demons spew from the Rift before my brain can form a single thought.

      Cassandra rushes past me, shield up and sword at the ready. I follow her as a blast of fire burns the nearest demon. Vivienne and the Attractive Moustache Man spin their staffs in similar dances, one twirling fire, the other ice.

      A shield stops a ball of energy from hitting my face and in return, I slash at the demon tormenting Cassandra.

      We spin and twirl around, watching each other’s backs, blocking and slashing when we can. Cassandra grunts and stumbles back, but I stop her from falling and we both dodge a bolt of green energy.

      Maybe Varric was right. We seem to trust each other with our lives—and Cassandra certainly has no quarrels with that. From the fire burning in her eyes, the permanent scowl, masculine body and her jaw line, it’s easy to see she doesn’t make friends easily. I just hope she’s finally found one in me.

      I screech as I drive a blade into a demon’s head. It hisses and melts into goo.

      “Two left!” yells Cassandra.

      Varric runs straight towards a demon, getting its attention, “Over here, you demon.”

      “Great insult,” I yell back.

      But then Varric does something I was not expecting. He stops and leaps, flipping backwards high in the air. And at the peak of his jump, his lets lose a volley of arrows, aimed straight at the demon. Varric lands lightly on his feet and watches in smug amusement as the demon turns to goo, a puddle on the Chantry carpet.

      “Watch out my dear,” yells Vivienne. I turn just as a demon rushes towards me. A bolt of ice slams into a demon’s eye and it gives out a pathetic attack, trying to stun me. I rock back on my heels, the demon’s massive hand brushing past my face. But the creature’s dying scream pierces through the Chantry and it melts into a puddle.

      I hold my hand up, filling the pull of the Rift, but my mark is too much. The Rift seems to scream in protest, but I yank my hand back and the Rift explodes.

      “What kind of move was that?” asks Cassandra, glaring at Varric. “You could have broken your neck.”

      Varric shrugs, slotting Bianca on his back, “Is that _concern_ I hear in your tone, Seeker?”

      “No,” she snaps a little too quickly. “But if I had to haul you back o Haven because you broke your neck, I wouldn’t be very happy.”

      “Well, I thought it was a pretty good move,” I say.

      Varric grins, “The Seeker’s just jealous because I’ve got better moves than her.”

      Cassandra scoffs.

      “As romantic as you two are, I’m still fascinated at your mark,” Attractive Moustache Man says, turning to me.

      “Romantic?” bellows Varric.

      “How does it work, exactly?” he continues. I blink, glancing at my hand. The man laughs, “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

      I scratch my head, “Something like that. Who are you?”

      “Ah. Getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

      “I do great,” I blurt. Heat rushes to my cheeks, “I mean, I’m good.”

      “Do _it_ good, do you?”

      “Um. I’d like to think so.”

      “You’re Tevinter?” asks Cassandra—thank the Maker for the change in subject. “I’d be careful.”

      “Suspicious friends you have here. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable—as I’m sure you can imagine.”

      I try not to jolt, “You’re betraying your mentor?”

      “Alexius _was_ my mentor. Meaning he’s not any longer, not for some time.”

      “Ah,” I say, pretending that I understand.

      “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

      “Well, that sounds bad.”

      “Certainly a dangerous type of magic,” says Vivienne.

      “The Rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down,” explains the Dorian.

      And he’s right—the same thing happened here as it had just outside Redcliffe.

      “Soon, there will be more like it and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

      I swallow, trying to take it all in, “How do you know about this?”

      “I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys.”

      “He didn’t do it for them,” comes a voice. I spin to see Felix walking towards us. He inclines his head towards me then turns his attention to Dorian.

      Dorian smiles, “Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?”

      My head is swirling with this whole situation, “What?” I manage to get out.

      “No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” Felix looks at me, “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter Supremacists. They call themselves Venatori. And I can tell you one thing, whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

      “Me? There’s nothing that special about me.”

      “Except you survived the Conclave explosion and bare the mark of Andraste,” reminds Cassandra.

      “Oh yeah,” I say. Clearing my throat, I glance at Dorian, “Do you have any suggestions?”

      “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here. And I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.” Dorian turns, but stops, “Oh and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.” He sneaks off towards the back of the Chantry.

      “There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” I hear Felix mutter, before he too, leaves us.

      I groan, “Templars or the mages—both need help.”

      Cassandra’s eyes are solemn, “It would be best to ask the advisors for help on this issue.”

     

+++

 

But of course, retuning to Haven only leads to a few drinks at the tavern. Varric had somehow mustered everyone down to the tavern—even Solas.

      Sera slushes her drink around, “But no breeches, yeah! You should have seen Lyds’ face.” She leans forward, “Though the Seeker looked like she’s never seen a butt before.”

      “I was there, and I must say it was pretty funny,” confirms Varric.

      Iron Bull bellows out a laugh, “Next time, take their underclothes.”

      Sera cackles, “Oh, that would be grand! Those tits would have nothing to hide!”

      “I was wondering why we had so many spare pants,” says Josephine.

      “And I had heard from my agents there was a shortage of mercenaries in Val Royeaux for hire. They’re all trying to find more breeches to wear,” smiles Leliana.

      We sit huddled around a wooden table, cups full of mead and ale—though Bull’s and Varric are nearly empty. Cassandra only takes little sips from hers, watching the members converse.

      “I’d much prefer if I didn’t have to fight men without underclothes,” I say.

      “And women,” grins Sera.

      I smile, “And women.”

      “Ugh,” says Cassandra. “Fighting naked means death.”

      “Exactly! We could cut them all down,” yells Sera. But her eyes watch Casandra suspiciously, “Have you ever even seen one?”

      “What?”

      “A peni—”

      “OK, who wants another drink?” asks Varric, a little too loud. But no one says anything if they noticed the distraction.

      Iron Bull grins, “Another keg of beer!”

      “Mead!” yells Sera, sculling down what’s left of her drink. “More mead!”

      Bull looks at me, “And you, Herald?”

      “Oh, I’m… I’m fine,” I say with a sm­­ile. “I might head back if that’s OK.”

      “Come on Herald, just one more?”

      I stand, “Maybe later Bull. I’ve… I’ve just got to get my thoughts together.”

      The table goes quiet and faces turn solemn. Bull nods, “As you wish boss.”

      I swallow back guilt—they’re trying to have a good time and I’m here stuck in my thoughts about mages and Templars.

      “It would be best if we all headed off, after all, we do have a big day tomorrow,” says Leliana.

      Cassandra stands, “We will have to decide who we help.”

      Thanks for the reminder.

      And so we all file from the tavern, Sera grumbling something about not being able to tell her story.

      I leave the others without saying a word, the rising panic slowing clouding my vision. What if we choose the wrong party? The Templars would fight off any demon the Breach throws at us, but they could just as easily fall under Lord Seeker Lucius’ spell and shut everyone out. And the mages? They could be very powerful allies, yet they could also be our enemies—now that they’re under the command of Tevinter.

      I sigh, my breath clouding in front of me.                                                                   

      “Herald?”

      I spin quickly, sending a silent prayer to the Maker for not tripping, “Commander?”

      He swallows, “I ah… just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

      A smile creeps to my lips, “I’m alright Cullen, just a little… stressed.”

      “Well, if it makes you feel any better, we’ve received a number of recruits—locals from Haven and some pilgrims.”

      I smile, “Well that’s good to know… at least we’ll have soldiers if this mission turns to shit.”                                                                                                                      

      The Commander lets out a small laugh.

      “So… ah, how did you get recruited to the Inquisition?” I ask, steering the conversation from the depressing subject.

      “I was in Kirkwall during the mage uprising—I saw firsthand the devastation it caused. Cassandra recruited me—she was searching for a solution so offered me a position. I left the Templars to join her cause.” His eyes flick to the Breach, swirling in the night sky. The green light sends a gloom over the Frostback Mountains. “Now it seems we face something far worse.”

      I nod, “But I must have this mark for a reason. It will work, I’m sure it will.”

      “Provided we can secure aid… but I’m confident we can,” he smiles, the cut on his upper lip moving. “We just have to choose who will aid us. The Chantry lost control of both mages and Templars. Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There’s so much we can—” He stops himself. “Forgive me. I doubt you wanted a lecture from me. Especially at this time of night.”

      I smile, “No… but if you have one prepared, I love to hear it.”

      He laughs, green light glinting in his chocolaty eyes, “Another time perhaps.”

      I smile, “I look forward to it.”

      “I, ah…” he clears his throat. “I better let you sleep. Decisions to be made tomorrow, and all.”

      Blinking, I snap from the trance he’s put me in, “Oh, um. Yeah. I better let you go too.”

      He inclines his head, “Well have a good night then.”

      “You too.”

      He turns footsteps left in the snow behind him, “And stay warm, it’s a bit cold tonight.”

      I clear my throat, “I’ll try.” I watch him disappear, but my legs don’t move—even if I can feel the icy bite.

      I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks and my mind keeps wandering to those eyes of his. I shake my head, he’s probably got many admirers already.                                 

      Pushing my door open, I glance at the book sitting stacked neatly in the book case. Taking it, I decide to read for a little bit—after all, it may keep my thoughts from the handsome Commander and the decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluffy Cullen/ Inquisitor for you all!! The usual though, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	15. Chapter 14

Standing around the war table, we stare at the castle piece placed in Fereldan.

      I point at it, “Helping the mages is our best bet. Otherwise things could get out of control with Tevinter controlling them.”

      I haven’t told anyone about my decision until now. And it was eating away at me. Glancing at the others, I try to catch their reactions. But all of them remain still.

      It’s our best bet—and my brother’s a mage, if I didn’t stop Alexius, then Brandon could end up allied with them. And I can’t let that happen.

      “I don’t think we have the man power to take the castle,” says Cullen. “Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and find the Templars.”

      My heart seems to crack… Cullen doesn’t approve of my choice?

      “Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. This cannot be allowed to stand,” argues Cassandra.

      Josephine looks up from her board, “The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

      “Look, we need to stop arguing. What exactly does he say about me?”

      Leliana nods, “He’s so complimentary we are certain he wants to kill you.”

      I swallow, “Oh.”

      “Not this again,” mutters Josephine.

      “Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Fereldan. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” The Commander turns to me and I try not to blush, “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose to only means we have of closing the Rifts.”

      “Good to hear I’m only seen as a closer of Rifts. Nothing else.”

      Cullen looks hurt, but it hurts me to know that I’m only here because of this stupid mark on my hand. Or else I’d have been shipped back to my family.

      “I won’t allow you to die,” says Cullen.

      Leliana glances at me then to the Commander, “And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius we lose the mages and leave the hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

      “Even if we could assault the Keep, it would be for naught. An Orlesian Inquisition army marching into Fereldan will provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

      “The Magister…” begins Cassandra.

      “Has outplayed us,” cuts Cullen.

      “We can’t just give up, there has to be something we can do.”

      “We cannot accept defeat now,” says Cassandra. “There must be another solution.”

      “Where is the Arl of Redcliffe?” I ask. “I’m sure he’d help us get his castle back.”

      “After he was displaced, Arl Teagon rode straight for Denerim to petition the crown for help. I doubt he’ll want our assistance once the Fereldan army lays siege to his castle.”

      “Wait,” says Leliana. “There is a secret passage to the castle, an escape route for family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

      “Too risky,” dismisses Cullen. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach Alexius.”

      “That’s why we need the distraction,” says Leliana. “Perhaps the envoys Alexius wants so badly.”

      “Focus their attention of Trevelyan, while we takes out the Tevinters. It’s risky, but it could work.”

      The doors swings open and I jump, right into Cassandra’s arms. I straighten and extract myself from her as Dorian walks through, head held high.

      “Fortunately, you’ll have help,” he says.

      A poor scout follows behind him, “This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander.”

     Dorian stands beside me and gives me a wink. He looks at Cullen, “You’re spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

     Cullen looks at me, “Herald, this plan put you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.” He looks sincere.

     Looking at Dorian, I smile, “Well, I guess I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ll be the bait.”

     “We leave straight away then,” nods Cassandra.

     “I’ll get Varric,” I say.

     “You’re taking Varric?” asks Cassandra as we leave the advisors in the war room.

     Dorian walks beside us, “The dwarf from back at the Chantry?”

     I nod, “He’s my marksman. Sera said she didn’t want to come on this mission, something about both parties being tits.”

     Cassandra nods and Dorian looks at me with a smile, an eyebrow rising in question. I just grin at him.

 

 

+++

 

Walking through the doors of the throne room, I try can feel the sweat dripping down my spine. Varric and Cassandra stand behind me, Dorian hidden until the plan is put in action. Even in my armour, I feel naked. As though this plan could go horribly wrong.

     Two Venatori guards block our path, their white robes similar to the Magister’s. Masks cover their faces, sending another chill down my spine.

     “Announce us,” I order.

     A man walks down the stairs to meet us, “The Magister’s invitation was for Miss Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here.”

     “Then I’ll wait here.”

     The man’s nostrils flare, but nods and turns, beckoning us to follow. The guards let us pass.

     Magister Alexius sits on the throne, Felix standing beside him. Behind them is a fire place, the logs shifting in the heat, sending sparks through the air. Grand Enchanter Fiona stands silently to the side, head down.

     “My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition has arrived,” says the man.

     Alexius stands, “My friend. It’s so good to see you. And your… associates.”

     “Friends,” I say.

     “Of course. I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.”

     “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” asks Fiona, stepping forward. 

     “Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you didn’t trust me with them.”

     “If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of the party’s talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition,” I say.

     Fiona nods at me, a small smile appearing on her lips, “Thank you.”

     Alexius turns away, shrouded in the shadows of the fire. He finally sits, face impassive, “The Inquisition needs more mages to close the Breach and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

     “The Inquisition has many backers among the Orlesian nobility, I’m sure you could find suitable compensation.”

     “I’m not sure what the Orlesian nobility have to offer that I don’t ready possess.”

     “She knows everything, father,” says Felix, speaking for the first time. 

     “Felix, what have you done?” suspicion drips from the Magister’s voice.        

     “Your son is concerned that you’re involved in something terrible.”

     “So speaks the thief! Do you think you can turn my own son against me? You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don’t even understand, and think you’re in control. You’re nothing but a mistake.”

     And that truly cuts deep. I blink back tears and clench my fists, “What do you know about the Divine’s death?”

     “It was the Elder One’s moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence.”

     “Father listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?”

      “He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everything expects us to be,” says Dorian as he walks from the shadows.                                   

        “Dorian,” hisses Alexius. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium for its own ashes.”

      “Who is this Elder One?”

      “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule form the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.                                                               

      “You can’t involve my people in this!” yells Fiona.

      “Alexius,” pleads Dorian. “This is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen. Why would you support this?”

      Alexius turns away from us.

      “Stop it father. Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

      Alexius turns to look at his son, “No! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you.”

      “Save me?”

      “There is a way. The Elder One promised, if I undo the mistake at the temple…”      

      “I’m going to die. You need to accept that,” snaps Felix.

      Alexius ignores him, “Seize them, Venatori. The Elder One demand’s this woman’s life!”

      A groan and shout echoes through the hall and I turn to see the Venatori guards fall to the ground, dead. Inquisition agents stand beside them.

      “Your men are dead, Alexius,” I say.

      For a second, Alexius is stunned, but he’s features grow dark, “You… are a mistake. You never should have existed.” He holds up his hand and a pale green glow sprouts from it, an amulet spinning in the air.

      “No!” yells Dorian, twirling his staff. A bolt of ice hits the Magister and he stumbles, the green light still in his hand.

      A portal opens right in front of us and I’m pushed to the ground. But before I can get to my feet, the whole world seems to collapse in on itself and I black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!! It's the dark future time!! Next chapter should be up quicker because of the cliff hanger ending, but as always, stay groovy.


	16. Chapter 15

Water splashes around me, and soaks my armour. It’s cold and dirty, but before I can try to stay dry, two Venatori guards rush into the cell we seem to have landed in.

      “Blood of the Elder One!” yells one guard. “Where did they come from?”

      My eyes flick to Dorian beside me just as he shoots a bolt of ice into the guard’s throat. I sprint towards the second guard, nearly tripping in the knee deep water. Ducking, a blade skims past my head, but I spin out of its course and slam my blade into the guard’s back. He stumbles forward and I hit him again, making him fall into the water. Dorian slams his staff on the ground and the water around the guard’s head turns to ice. I jump back so not to get caught in it.

      Cassandra and Varric have disappeared, and the thought sends a cloud of fear over my mind. But I push it back for now.

      “Displacement? Interesting,” says Dorian, examining the cell we managed to find ourselves in. “It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The Rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

      “The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall,” I say, not quite sure what Dorian’s trying to explain.

      “Let’s see, if we’re still in the castle, it isn’t… Oh!”

      I raise an eyebrow, “Go on.”

      “It’s not simply where—it’s when. Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time.”

      “Moved us through _time_? Can that even be done?”

      “Normally I would say no. Obviously Alexius has taken his research to exciting new heights. We’ve seen his temporal Rifts before. This time we simply…passed through one. Let’s look around, see where the Rift took us. Then we can figure out how the get back… if we can.”

      “That’s reassuring,” I say as we walk through the cell door.

      “I do believe Alexius was trying to remove you from time, completely,” Dorian says. “I’m quite sorry about that.”

      “But I guess that didn’t go to plan.”

      “No. Certainly not. You are still here after all.”

      “And a good thing too.”

      Dorian grins, “Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll protect you.” I can hear a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

      “Why thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

      We share a laugh, but it echoes through the hall. We must be in the dungeon because cells line the walls, doors locked tight.   

      I look at the water at my feet, “What about the others?”

      “They’re probably still where and when, we left them. In some sense anyway.”

      That puts my fears to rest… sort of.

      “So… you do have a plan, right?”

      “I have some thoughts on that. They’re lovely thoughts. Like little jewels.”

      “That’s a no then.”

      As we continue further into the castle, red spires of glowing rock forms on the walls and with a jolt, I realise it’s red Lyrium. I don’t touch it though.

      Bones are scattered around the floor, dirty and broken. Whatever future we’re in, I don’t want any part in it.

      The cells keep going forever and it’s until we come to a large room, with water pouring from a hole in the ceiling to the grate in the ground, that we see the man.

      I run over to him, but he stares at nothing from behind those cell bars.   
      “Andraste blessed me, Andraste blessed me…” he mumbles. “My fears are my sins, my sins, my sins…”

      “Excuse me?” I ask.

      “Andraste guide me,” he continues. “Andraste guide me…”

      “Come, he won’t help us,” says Dorian.

      I turn from him, checking the other cells as we continue. But all are empty. Dorian doesn’t speak and I don’t want him to. This is too much to take in at the moment. I need to keep my thoughts to myself.

      Heading up a flight of stairs, Dorian pushes the wooden door open with a large creak.

      We come to a metal platform, the draw bridge in front of us is up, blocking our route. A wooden door is closed to the left and the right of us.

      “Which way, left or right?” asks Dorian.                                                                     

      “Right.” Though I’m not sure why I said it.

      Heading down the stairs, we reach yet another room full of cells. More Lyrium sticks out of the walls, pulsing.

      And it’s only then that I see Varric, sitting in the corner of his cell.

      I gasp, “Varric?”

      “Andraste’s sacred knickers. You’re alive?” but his voice is different, as though multiple voices are speaking. His eyes… red as the very Lyrium he hates. Dark circles ring his eyes, like he hasn’t slept for a long time. But he’s the same old Varric, his chest hair still visible under his shirt, his blonde hair messy, but still tied at the back. He scrambles to his feet, “Where were you? How did you escape?”

      “We didn’t escape,” says Dorian. “Alexius send us into the future.”

      “Everything that happens to you is weird,” says Varric, his hands curling around the metal bars. My own fingers hold his, yet his hands are so cold. “Varric, what happened to you? You don’t look so good.”

      “Bite your tongue,” he says. “I look damn good for a dead man.”

      “You’re no more dead than we are,” says Dorian.

      “The not-dying version of this red Lyrium stuff? Way worse, just saying.” Inside his cell are spires of red Lyrium. He would have been exposed to it for a long time. 

      “We get to Alexius, and I just might be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really.”

      “That… may not be as easy as you think. Alexius is just a servant. His ‘Elder One’ assassinated the Empress and led a demon army in a huge invasion of the south. The Elder One rules everything. What’s left of it, anyway. Alexius… is really not the one you need to worry about.”

      I slide my hands from his, “I promise you Varric. We’ll make sure none of this happens.”

      “I’m pretty sure you’re crazy. Or I’m crazy. Either way, it’s a nice thought. You want to take on Alexius. I’m in.”

      I kneel down, examining the lock. I pull a pin from my hair and place it into the lock. Fiddling around, I manage to find the sweet spot, so I twist. The lock opens and I swing the door open. Varric steps out and I give him a small hug.

      “It’s good to see you too, Stumbles.”

      We continue through the lower cells, pushing various doors open only to find empty cells. My heart beats fast in my chest like a drum. This place is giving me more than just the shivers.

      I push through a door, almost giving up when I hear her.

      “The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.” Her voice, distorted, is beautiful though. I spin and see Cassandra sitting on the floor of her cell, head bowed, hands bloody.

      I leap to the cell and my hands wrap around the cold bars, “Cassandra?”

      She looks up, red eyes burning. But realization dawns on her face, “You’ve returned to us? Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance? Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us in if the dead return to life.” Her voice is like Varric’s—like there is more than one of her speaking.

      “Cassandra,” my throat is dry. “You’re hurt? What happened?”

      “I was there… the Magister obliterated you with a gesture… you died in front of my eyes.”

      “Alexius sent us forward in time. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present,” insists Dorian.

      “Go back in time?” asks Cassandra, shakily getting to her feet. “Then… can you make it so that none of this ever took place?” Her eyes drift to Varric, but settle on me again.

      I gently take hold of her hand, “I’ll try my best.”

      Again, I use my pin to open the lock. When the door opens Cassandra steps out, “Alexius’s master… after you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising.” Her eyes are sad.

      “It’s not your fault Cassandra,” I say, taking her hand.

      She looks at my hand then at me, “Empress Celene was murdered. The army that swept in afterwards—it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing.”

      “I’m… I’m so sorry,” I get out. Seeing her like this tears at my heart. It’s my fault this happened. I choke back a sob.

      “You were captured?” asks Dorian.

      “Yes, Varric and I were taken to different cells. And then we were used… tortured by the red Lyrium.”

      “They tortured you?” I ask. I clench my fist.

      Cassandra just stares blankly at the wall, “Maker… guide us forth.”

 

In the next room, Dorian and I search for any information that could help us. But we yield nothing.

      “You’re… alive?” comes a groan.

      I turn to see Grand Enchanter Fiona in a cell. Her body is stuck to the wall, red Lyrium growing around her like some kind of strangler vine. Her hands disappear inside the Lyrium, and it curls around her spine. With jarring realization, I see that Lyrium is growing from _out_ of her.

      “How is it possible?” her voice is faint. “I saw you… disappear into that… Rift.”

      “Fiona, is that you? What happened to you?”

      “Red Lyrium… it’s a disease. The longer you’re near it… eventually… you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

      I look at Varric and Cassandra. They’re not as bad, but they’ve certainly been exposed to red Lyrium for a long time. But how long?

      “Do you know the date?” I ask.

      “Havestmere… 9.42 Dragon.”

      “9.42? Then we’ve missed an entire year.”

      For a year they’ve been tortured. For a year this Elder One has been rampaging through Thedas. For a year I was considered dead.

      “We have to get out of here. Go back in time,” I order.

      “Please… stop this from happening. Alexius serves the Elder One. More powerful… than the Maker… no one… challenges him and lives.”

       “I promise I will do everything in my power to set things right.”

      “Our only hope is the find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the Rift at the exact spot we left. Maybe.”

      “Good,” moans Fiona.

      “I said _maybe_. It might also turn us into paste.”

      “You must try. Your spymaster, Leliana… she’s here. Find her. Quickly… before the Elder One… learns you’re here.”

      We leave the Grand Enchanter in her cell, heading back to the metal platform. I bite my lip and it’s the only thing I can do to stop me from crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated seeing my companions like they were in this quest!! It was really heart breaking!! :( But, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Stay groovy.


	17. Chapter 16

“Find them! They must be here somewhere!” yells a Venatori guard. The section of the platform that was raise when we first came here, lowers with a thud. “The prisoners are loss.”

      Four Venatori guards rush across the bridge, swords and shields in hand.

      I slap a sword away with one of my own. Varric shoots a well-aimed bolt at the under arm of the Venatori—an unprotected part. The guard howls in pain and I kick him in the groin. He falls to his knees and I kick him again.

      And again.

      I don’t know how many times I’ve kicked him, but a hand clumps down on my shoulder, “I think you’ve broken his nose already,” says Dorian.

      It’s only then I’m aware of the tears running down my cheeks, “They had to be the ones who tortured them.”

      I send a glance to Cassandra, but her and Varric can’t hear us.

      “I know. But if we find Alexius, none of this would happen. They’ll be safe.”

      I nod and step back from the body, “Let’s go.”

      The castle is quiet as we continue along. I keep glancing back and Cassandra and Varric, to make sure they’re still with us.

      I don’t want to disappear on them again. I can’t even imagine what they’ve been through and it hurts to think about it.

      Varric loots through some barrels and jars, looking for anything useful, but doesn’t find anything, “Just what you’d expect in a castle owned by the Elder One’s servant.”

      The rest of our journey is in silence, and I feel the place starting to weigh on me. I just want out.

      We walk up a flight of stone stairs and I glance around. A small stream of water trickles along the cracked floor, brown and dirty.                                                               

      It smells of blood and death. The red Lyrium grows more frequently here and I make sure Cassandra and Varric don’t get anywhere near it. They’ve been exposed to enough of it already.

      “How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the temple?” a man’s voice cuts through the air. “Answer me!”

      “Never!” comes the response and I realise it’s Leliana. A slap sounds across the hall and I burst through the nearest door and see the spymaster chained, her arms and legs spread apart. A Venatori stands in front of her, knife in hand.                                  

      “You will break,” he hisses, pressing a palm against her head and the tip pf the knife against her throat.

      Her hood shifts and I see her face. Shrunken eye sockets, her cheek bones visible, her lips chapped, hair like straw. And the wrinkles covering her face are the worst. She seems to have aged ten years in one.

      “I will die first,” she snaps back.

      “Hey!” I yell. The Venatori guard snaps around to look at me, his helmet hiding his surprise.

      “Or you will,” says Leliana, her legs wrapping around his neck.

      The guard struggles, gagging and chocking, arms trying to tear the spymaster’s legs away. But she tightens her grip and twists her hips, the foul snap of his neck cracking echoing through the chamber.

      The guard lets out one last choke and falls to the ground.

      I rush to her side, her gaze on me, eyes devoid of emotion, “You’re alive?”

      My fingers twitch into action, unlocking one of the cuffs binding her to the pole. Her arm drops and I go to the other one. When Leliana is finally free, I step back, “You’re safe now, Leliana.”

      “Forget ‘safe’. If you came back from the dead, you need to do better than ‘safe’.”

      I blink at her harsh words.

      “You need to end this. Do you have weapons?”

      I nod, still a little shocked to say anything.

      “Good,” she says, walking past us. “The Magister is probably in his chambers.” She kneels beside a chest and unlocks it with ease.

      “You… aren’t curious how we got here?” asks Dorian.

      “No.” She slings a bow around her torso, accompanied by a quiver.

      “Alexius sent us into the future. This. His victory. His Elder one—it was never meant to be.”

      “I’m sorry that this happened. But if we get back to the present and stop Alexius, then you’ll never have to go through this.”

      “And mages wonder why people fear them…”

      “One bad apple doesn’t spoil an entire bunch, Leliana,” I say.

      She just gives me a look, “No one should have this power.”

      Dorian nods, “It’s dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did—”

      “Enough. This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.” She turns and storms from the room and we’ve got no choice but to follow her.

      “What happened while we were away?” asks Dorian as we walk down a hallway.

      “Stop talking,” Leliana snaps.

      “I’m just asking for information,” argues Dorian, sending me a look.

      “No. You’re talking to fill silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear.”

      I try not to yell at her.

      “Well, we need to find Alexius. I’m sure he’s in the nicer part of the castle. If there is one.”

 

+++

 

In front of us seems to be some kind of dock. Red Lyrium grows from the high ceiling, and debris is scattered around the dock, chunks of the ceiling having fallen.

      “The Magister needs more power for his rituals,” comes a woman’s voice.

      “No! Don’t hurt me, Linnea. You know me,” pleas a man.

      We rush down the stairs in time to see two demons rise from the ground, growling and spitting. Taking them down is easy, an arrow in the eye, a blade in the throat. A sword in its face, an ice bolt buried in its belly. It’s looking at the ritual symbol drawn into the stone with chalk that’s not so easy to look at. Blood is splattered over the stone, covering most of the symbol, and small candles burn flecked with blood. My guess: Those two we heard talking turned into demons.

      “This is madness,” says Dorian. “Alexius can’t have wanted this.”

      I look out to the body of water. Boats drift in the small ripples, broken, hulls smashed and sails snapped. There’s no way we’d escape by swimming, the water is darker than night.

      We leave the cavern without another word, but then we step outside into what seems like a courtyard.

      The grass is dead—nothing more than grey sticks. The stairs leading further up the courtyard are broken, but climbable.

      I gasp. The sky is grey, polluted with haze and hovering stones. Pieces of the ground seem to be floating around us, spires of earth threatening to fall on top of us. Lightning flashes through the hazy sky.

      “The Breach… it’s…” I can’t finish my sentence.

      “Everywhere,” says Dorian.

      “Well shit,” says Varric.

      “We were never taken outside,” says Cassandra.

      They hadn’t seen the sun for a year… what’s left of the sun.

      A Rift lights up, spewing demons from its green maw.

      My mind is a mess as we plough through the demons and I don’t remember how many demons I stab and slash at, killing them with harsh blows. I hardly feel the cut on my arm. Or that I close the Rift.

      Alexius is the one behind it all—this Elder One wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. If I hadn’t decided to help the mages, we wouldn’t be here. Cassandra, Varric and Leliana wouldn’t have been tortured.

      I blink and somehow we’ve made it to a nicer part of the castle—a royal wing by the various paintings lining the walls and candles burning.

      Entering a room at the start of a deserted hallway, the first thing I notice is the fire burning in the hearth. Someone’s been here recently. The two double sized beds have been neatly made, the cotton covers smooth and clean. A desk sits against the opposite wall, lying on the oak top, a piece of parchment. Scribbled in ink is someone’s handwriting, almost too messy to read.

      “It’s Alexius’ writing,” says Dorian. He skims the page, “He was trying to go back before the Conclave explosion… Felix’s caravan was attacked by darkspawn.” Dorian gasps, “Whatever magic Alexius is using, it’s tied to the Breach in some way. He cannot travel outside its timeline.”

      “So you mean he can’t fulfill the Elder One’s plans?” I ask.

      “It seems that way.”

      I glance at Cassandra then back to Dorian, “Come on. We better find him.”

      We continue walking through the hallway, paintings ripped, walls broken and ceilings with holes in them.

      Dorian looks around, “How much damage did Alexius’ spell do?”

      Leliana inclines her head, “Rifts tore apart all of Southern Thedas, starting here. But whether that’s his doing or the Breach, who can say?”

After walking for a few minutes in the seemingly never ending hallway, we come to another room.

      I glance inside, seeing an office of some sort. A fire place with Lyrium sticking from the hearth sits idle, a book case beside it actually stacked with various novels. But on a table tucked in the corner of the room is a massive book, with someone’s writing scribbled all over it. Dorian and I share a glance then read the text, with Leliana and Cassandra keeping watch. Varric stares at the wall, his blank expression devoid of any life.

      It’s someone’s study notes. The Venatori had been experimenting on Blight victims—transferring blood from resistant subjects to the ill. But according to this, it only slowed the corruption slightly. All those lives wasted.

      It’s not until I reach the bottom that it holds a dark secret. They had been taking flesh from healthy subjects to implant into the ill, but they would die before the implantation was successful. The last sentence makes me gasp, a hand coming to cover my mouth. _Prisoner Leliana has been the most useful source of resistant blood and skin to date._

I keep reading the same sentence, hoping my eyes are wrong. But they’re not.

      I glance at Leliana, whose shrunken face is hidden behind her hood. That’s why she’s like that. They did that to her. Drained her blood, took her flesh… Andraste preserve her.

      Dorian purses his lips and I know he’s thinking the same thing.

      She may seem fine, brave even, but under those robes, I wonder what scares she has—mentally and physically.

      And what of Cassandra and Varric? Are they subjects to? Are they infected with the Blight to the Venatori can experiment on them?

      I clench my fists and Leliana’s eyes meet mine, “What does it say? Anything on Alexius?”

      I look away, “No. It’s… nothing important. Just some journal entries.”

      She sighs, “Perhaps we need to keep looking.”

      And we move away from the room, away from the horrifying facts. From the truth.

      The hallway eventually spreads out into a large room. Red Lyrium grows from the walls sending a reddish gloom throughout the hall. Wooden scaffolding has been placed around the stone pillars, seemingly to make sure they don’t collapse. After a year of war and the Elder One, I’m sure collapsing castles are the least of our worries.

      Walking up a flight of stairs, we stop in front of a metal door. Carvings have been etched into the metal, depicting various deaths.

      I place a palm on the door, surprised by how cold it is. My fingers tingle and a ripple of adrenaline rushes through me. Hopefully we can reverse this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter this time, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! I skipped the finding the red lyrium pieces I'm pretty sure you don't want to read them traversing through the castle fighting everyone. Plus, when I played the game, it took me about half and hour to find all fine pieces... I got so lost. But stay groovy.


	18. Chapter 17

The door glows green and opens with a groan on its own accord. Entering the room, we find Alexius staring into the fire, his back to us. He still wears his robes, even after a year. He doesn’t turn around, though a small twitch in his shoulders tells me he knows we’re here. A man is crouched beside the Magister, shaking and watching the room with deranged eyes.

      Cassandra and Varric stay a few steps behind Dorian and I.

      “Look at what you’ve done, Alexius,” I say. “All this suffering, and for what?” I try not to let my voice shake too much.

      “For my country, for my son…” he takes a shuddering breath. “But it means nothing now. I knew you would appear again.” His head turns slightly. “Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.” His voice is quiet, sad even.

      “Was it worth it?” asks Dorian, his voice matching the Magister’s. “Everything you did to the world? To yourself?”

      “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” He’s admitted defeat. His slack shoulders, his bowed head… after everything he did, he’s admitting defeat.

       “What do you mean?” I yell. “What’s ending?”

      The Magister lets out a laugh, “The irony that you should appear now, of all possibilities. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed and what have I wrought? Ruin and death, there is nothing else. The Elder One comes for me, for you, for all of us.”

      I swallow, but a cry of alarm stops my response.

      Leliana grabs Felix in a hold, a knife to his throat.

      Alexius turns and gasps in shock, “Felix!”

      “That’s _Felix_?” asks Dorian. Even I’m shocked. I thought it was one of Alexius’ experiments. “Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

      “He would have died,” hisses Alexius. “I _saved_ him. Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do anything you ask.”

      An idea flashes in my mind, “Hand over the amulet and we let him go.”

      “Let him go and I swear you’ll get what you want,” Alexius’ voice is pained.

      Leliana glares at him, “I want the world back.” And with a flick of her wrist, she slits Felix’s throat, blood spurting from the wound. Felix’s body falls to the ground, a pool of blood around him.

      “No,” gasps Alexius. He looks at Leliana, his face contorting in anger, “NO!” He lunges for Leliana, slamming his staff down and causing a small shock wave to knock her back.

      Well there goes our chance of bargaining with him.                                                   

      I rush at Alexius, swords in hands. Swiping low, I try cutting at his legs, but he hits me with his staff and I fly to the floor. Cassandra jumps in front of me, shield up and reflecting one of Alexius’s fireballs.

      In a flash Alexius disappears and pops back up a few metres away. Dorian sends a swirl of coldness towards Alexius, causing the Magister to slow down.

      A bolt pierces through Alexius’ staff—a move that stopped the bolt from going through his stomach.

      So the Magister is a lot faster than he looks.

      Leliana is back on her feet, sending arrows towards the Magister, but he keeps a barrier up.

      He laughs manically, “You can’t defeat me!”

      I throw everything I have at him, trying to wound him, but he deflects my attacks. I spin just in time to see his staff smack into my face.

      I reel back, stars dancing in my vision. I can feel blood dripping from my nose. Tears well up in my eyes, making my vision blurred. So I don’t see the next attack. Red hot flames engulf my arm and I let out a scream.

      “Lydia!” yells Dorian. He flicks his staff, sending a cloud of frost towards me. The frost extinguishes the flames, leaving my arm smoking. The armour took the brunt of the damage, its scaled plates now melted.

      I manage a thank you, watching as Cassandra and Varric work together, one distracting Alexius, the other attacking.

      I grit my teeth, swallowing back the pained screamed rising in the throat. Clutching my swords I rush towards Alexius again.

      Varric and Leliana release a volley of arrows which is deflected by Alexius, but Cassandra and I get past his defenses. We swing low, my sword cutting his leg, while Cassandra slams her shield into his knee. The Magister falls to the ground, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

      Dorian sends a bolt of ice through the Magister’s stomach.

      His face is frozen in shock, a tear running down his cheek and his eyes are on Felix’s body. Cassandra drives her sword into Alexius’ back, the final blow.

      We’re silent for a few seconds before Dorian crouches down next to the Magister’s body, “He wanted to die, didn’t he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications…”

      I place a hand on Dorian’s shoulder as he grabs the amulet.

      “He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice. Oh, Alexius…” He stands.

      “I’m sorry Dorian… this must be hard for you. Alexius was too far gone, but maybe the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with.”

      “I supposed that’s true. This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used and I should be able to reopen the Rift.”

      “An hour?” snaps Leliana. “That’s impossible. You must go now!”

      The ground begins the rumble and a screech fills the air, turning my blood cold. Dust and small pieces of stone fall from the ceiling.

      “The Elder One,” says Leliana.

      “That’s how they won…” mumbles Varric. He turns to Cassandra, giving her a nod and a flicker of fear crosses his face. Cassandra returns the nod, her red eyes teary.

      “We’ll hold them off for as long as possible, Stumbles,” says Varric.

      I blink in shock, “No! I won’t let you commit suicide.”

      “Look at us. We’re already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes,” says Leliana, voice firm.

      “No…” I whisper.

      “Be sure to write a heroic scene for us,” says Varric as they turn towards the door.

      “Cast your spell,” says Leliana. “You have as much time as I have arrows.”

      Dorian moves towards the stairs and I watch the three of them leave, my heart breaking.

      The doors shut behind Cassandra and Varric, leaving Leliana as our last line of defense.

      Dorian sets about fiddling with the amulet and I keep my eyes on the door. Varric and Cassandra are going to die… I can’t let them.

      Blinking back tears, I watch as Dorian levitates the amulet, green light shining from it. He gives me a quick pat on the arm.

      Then the shouts come. I can hear fighting behind those doors, the clang of steel, the bashing of shields. And I wish I was there with them, helping them.

      The doors rumble, dust shifting.

      Leliana nocks an arrow, “Though the darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.”

      The stone doors burst open, Cassandra hitting the floor, a sword through her chest. I scream and I see Varric turn, horror etched into his face as he sees Cassandra’s body. Then an arrow flies into his throat.

      “Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.” She fires an arrow as demons rush into the room, Venatori behind them. She fires arrow after arrow, hitting the Venatori.

      I watch, tears threatening to spill over. After everything they’ve done to her, she still fights. 

      An arrow slams into Leliana’s chest and she screams.

      I take a step forward, but Dorian grabs my hand, “You move, and we all die.” But my heart and brain have conflicting views. I’m torn.

      Leliana continues to fight, even with the arrow wound.

       Something flashes behind me and I turn to see the amulet open a Rift, Dorian continues the keep it open, powering it up.

      A screech echoes through the room and I snap back to Leliana, just as she’s grabbed by a Venatori. He holds her in place and our eyes meet. She keeps them on me as a Venatori plunges a dagger into her heart.

      Then the whole world turns black.

 

I step from the Rift, light headed. But Alexius steps away from us, holding his hands out in front of him. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes.

      “You’ll have to do better than that,” says Dorian.

      The Magister falls to his knees.

      I stand over him, mustering my courage, “Put aside all claim to Redcliffe and we let you live.”

      “You won,” he admits. “There is no point extending this charade. “Felix…”

      His son bends down, a small smile on his face, “It’s going to be alright, father.”

      “You’ll die.”

      “Everyone dies.”

      Alexius doesn’t respond. He’s too heartbroken. And for a second I actually feel sorry for him, but it disappears quickly.

      Inquisition agents hurl the Magister to his feet, escorting him and his son away.

      “Well,” says Dorian. “I’m glad that’s over with.”

      Footsteps thunder through the hall, soldiers marching in two straight lines, armour glinting in the fire light. They stop and stand still.

      “Or not.”

      “Grand Enchanter,” comes a voice. A man steps forward, blonde hair swept back, a strong jawline and dark eyes. He wears formal clothes and with a start, I realise it’s King Alistair. But where is his Queen? “Imagine how surprised I was when I heard you gave away Redcliffe castle to a Tevinter Magister.”

      Fiona scuttles forward, “King Alistair.”

      “Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagon.”

      “Your Majesty, we never intended—”

      “I know what you intended. I wanted to help you, but you’ve made it impossible.” He shakes his head. “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Fereldan.”

      Fiona frowns, “But we have hundreds who need protection. Where would we go?”

      I step forward, “The Inquisition might be willing to take in the mages.”

      “And what are the terms of this arrangement?”

      “Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you. The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?”

      “I suggest conscripting them,” comes Cassandra’s voice. And it’s normal… not the one she had in the future. I glance at her, glad to have her back to normal. Just not so gland of her blunt ways. “They’ve proven what they’ll do, given too much freedom.”

      “I’ve known a lot of mages,” says Varric. “They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions, but still loyal.”

      “It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.”

      I wet my lips, glancing at Varric than to Cassandra. Looking at Fiona, I nod, “We would be honoured to have you fight as allies at the Inquisition’s side.”

      “We’ll discuss this, later,” says Cassandra.

      “I pray that the rest of the Inquisition honours your promise, then.”

      I sigh, “The Breach threatens all of Thedas. We cannot afford to be divided now. We can’t fight this without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.”

      “I’d take that offer if I were you,” says the King. “One way or another, you are leaving my kingdom.”

      Fiona bows then looks at me, “We accept. It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

     

+++

 

“It’s not a matter of debate. There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared,” says Cullen.

      After securing the mage’s help, we rode back to Haven, mostly in silence. I didn’t want to talk about what happened in the future and neither did Dorian. But Cassandra kept looking at me like she wanted to say something, but kept her mouth shut.

      “If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst,” argues Josephine.

      I push myself up from the chair I sit in and move slowly over to the advisors. None of them seem too happy with me at the moment.

      Cullen looks at me, “What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open.”

      I glare back, “We need them to close the Breach. Isn’t that why we went to them in the first place? It’s not going to work if we make enemies of them. Not all mages are bad. Not all of them will succumb to possession.”

      “I know we need them for the Breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves.”

      “Well if you don’t like my decisions, why don’t you make them yourself?” I snap.

      That shuts him up. He blinks and looks down at his boots.

      I clench my fist, angry at myself for my outburst.

      “Enough,” says Cassandra. “None of you were there. We cannot afford to second-guess our people.” She glances at Cullen then to me. “The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished. And while I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it.”

      Dorian steps forward, “The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.” He leans against a wooden pillar.

      Cassandra turns, “Closing the Breach is all that matters.

      “The longer the Breach is open, the more damage it does. We should head there as soon as possible,” I say.

      “Agreed,” nods Josephine.

      “We should look into the things you saw in this ‘dark future’. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?”

      I had told them briefly when we got back to Haven about the future, but nothing about the torture the three had to endure.

      “Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!”

      “One battle at a time,” says Cullen. “It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room.” He looks at me, “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.”

      I tear my eyes from his, “Thank you. I’d be honoured to help with the plan.” It comes out as a mumble.

      “I’ll skip the war council, but I would like to see the breach up close, if you don’t mind,” says Dorian.

      I look up, “Then you’ll stay?”

      “Oh, didn’t I mention? The south is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces

      I grin spreads across my lips, “There’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with, future or present.”

      Dorian grins, “Excellent choice. And excellently said. But let’s not get ‘stranded’ again anytime soon, yes?”

      “Agreed.”

      “I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

      “They will,” I mutter and I see Dorian give me a nod.

      We are dismissed and I storm back towards my house. I want nothing more than the sleep in my bed, warm covers and in the comfort of an actual mattress.

      Footsteps rush up behind me and I turn to see Dorian.

      He nods, “I just wanted to see how you are feeling. Travelling through time can be quite taxing.”

      I smile, “I’m fine. Just need a few drinks.”

      He nods, “And when I was working on the amulet, were you crying?”

      I look away, “My friends had just died in front of me.”

      “You don’t wish to speak about this to them, do you?”

      “Maybe in time. But for now, Varric and Cassandra certainly don’t need to know they were tortured as well as subjected to red Lyrium.”

      He nods, “I respect that. I will leave you be.”

      The mage peels away and I’m walking by myself again. Sighing, I try not to think about the consequences of allying with the mages.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kabam! Quick update!! But I hope you enjoy it, my friends.


	19. Chapter 18

The snow falls softly, landing in my palm. I clench my fingers and the snow flake melts, disappearing against my skin.

      The mages and Inquisition troops are lined up in groups, headed for the mountain. Cullen yells an order and they straighten, beginning their ascent up to the temple.

      The rest of us stand around, waiting for the all clear.

      Turning around, I see Sera counting her arrows, “Ready?”

      “You bet,” she says, watching the mages as they march out of Haven. “So many robes. I bet all of Fereldan lost their curtains.”

      I snort, “They do like their robes, don’t they?”

      “I’ll just stay behind them. Away from them.”

      I look at her, “You don’t like the mages?”

      “Mages are fine, my problem is _magic_. If mages sat on their hands, everything would be fine.”

      I nod, “Magic is unpredictable. It’s dangerous. But only as dangerous as the person who wields it. I mean, swords could do a whole lot more damage, yet you’re not scared of them. A madman could be wielding that sword, but you’d be more frightened of a mage.”

      Sera turns to me, standing and slinging her bow over her back, “You make my brain hurt.”

      “Sorry.” I smile at her, “We haven’t really gotten to know each other, Sera. Tell me about yourself.”

      “What about me?” she asks.

      I shrug, “Where are you from?”

      “Fereldan?”

      “Is that a question? Where in Fereldan?”

      “All over?”

      “Still a question.”

      “OK, fine. Denerim for a bit. South, north. Wherever I want.”

      “I lived in North everywhere,” I say. “And on the street, and/or tavern.”

      “Oh, har-dee-har. All funny you.”

      I grin.

      “Look, it’s complicated. I don’t like complicated. Let’s leave it at that. Maybe.”

      “Maybe? Are you teasing me?”

      “Pfft. No.”

      “Maybe later then,” I say.

      She tilts her head, “After we close the Breach and coin starts flowin’ again. A drink at the tavern and then I might tell ya.”

      I nod, “I’ll hold you to that.”

      Sera nods, as Cassandra comes to stand beside us. Her hair is wild, the crowned braid seemingly the only thing she styled. Her weary eyes have dark bags under them.

      I frown, but decide not to push the Seeker.

      “You are free to begin your ascent,” says Cullen. “The mages and Inquisition troops are already on their way.”

      I nod, sudden nervousness sweeping through me.

      “You’ll be fine,” he assures.

      “I…I know,” my throat is dry.

      He smiles and it makes my cursed heart flutter.

      “Let’s go,” say Cassandra.

      And so we trek up the Frostback Mountains, all of us too eager—or nervous to speak. The snow continues to fall as we make out way along the familiar paths Cassandra and I took when I woke up. It feels weird to be back, and there are no demons so far, which is a good sign.

      I walk with Iron Bull, Varric and Dorian, while the others are scattered around. Everyone wanted to see how I would close to Breach and to be honest it’s kind of putting me off. I don’t want every eye on me when I mess up. Maybe I am just a mistake, like Alexius said.

      Bull pats me on the back, “You bet there will be drinks once your close this.”

      “Well, I’m excited. I think I’d deserve a free drink if I close it.”

      Bull grumbles, “Fine, I’ll pay.”

      “What about me?” asks Varric. “I want a free drink too, Tiny.”

      “Do you have a mark on you hand that can close Rifts? Are you a beautiful woman who can kick ass?”

      Varric purses his lips, “My chest hair is beautiful.”

      “Oh Maker,” I laugh.

      “Ew. Chest hair,” says Sera.

      “My dear Varric, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to cover up that chest of yours,” says Vivienne. “Not many nobles find that forest of hair attractive.”

      “You know where else he has a forest of hair?” grins Bull. I let out a laugh.  

      Vivienne just sighs and fastens her pace.

      I hear an “Ugh,” from Cassandra in front of us.

     

The temple is just as creepy as I remember it. Pieces of statues hover in the air, pulled by the Breach’s force.

      The red Lyrium still glows from the walls of the ruined temple. But the Breach is certainly the most awe-inspiring sight. Even if it does threaten to tear the world apart, it still is strangely beautiful. The mages are standing perfectly still around the perimeter of the clearing, on the stone balconies away from the Breach.

      My hand glows green and Cassandra watches me. I glance at her then step forward, taking my place below the Breach.

      “Mages,” yells Cassandra.

      Solas hold up his staff, “Focus past the Herald. Let her will draw from you.”

      I hold my hand up and green light shoots down from the Breach. I have to push through the force of the light as it pushes back against my mark. Green lightning seems to crackle from my palm.

      I hear the mages slam their staffs to the ground, but I can’t see them. The light is too blinding.

      I thrust my palm into the air, sending a tendril of light up into the Breach. A tornado of light surrounds me, threatening to swallow me up. Pain shoots through my palm, for the first time since we closed the Rift here. The Breach is powerful, I can feel it tugging against my mark, trying to stop me.

      More powerful than any Rift I’ve closed before.

      A yell escapes my mouth, but from pain or fear, I can’t quite remember.

      Then the Breach explodes.

      I fly back and hit the ground, the air rushing from my lungs. The sky spins, my vison is blurry and I feel the urge to throw up.

      The temple grows silent, but as the dust settles, I hear groans as the others shift to their feet.

      I roll up my stomach, managing to keep my breakfast down. Concentrating on focusing my vision, the blurriness begins to fade.

      I heave myself to one knee, head bent so I don’t suddenly throw up. With the Commander watching, it would be a pretty bad sight.  

      Someone walks towards me: It’s Cassandra, relief flooding over her features. But whether she’s relieved because I’m alive or the Breach is closed, I don’t know.             

      Her hand grips my shoulder and she helps me up, “You did it.”

      And cheers erupt from all around us.

      I breathe a sigh of relief, grinning at Cassandra, who’s smiling herself.

      “Well done boss,” roars Bull, picking me up and hauling me onto his shoulders.

      I laugh, honestly basking in the praise. Josephine squeals and hugs a surprised Leliana. Sera and Scout Harding dance around Iron Bull and Cassandra even lets out a laugh. Vivienne is clapping softly, and I’m sure that’s her way of congratulating me.

      It feels as though the whole weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel normal again—not a prisoner, not someone being used just because of this mark, and certainly not a mistake.

 

+++

 

And so the rest of the day is met with celebrations. A feast was prepared, thanks to the quick organization of Josephine, for lunch. Following the feast was a small tourney, held by the Inquisition troops to see who the top recruit was. They were judged by Blackwall and Cullen. Iron Bull suggested Cassandra enter, but she shrugged him off.

      The cloudy sky is still scared with the remnants of the Breach, as the sun begins to set over the mountains.

      And somehow I’ve managed to only have two drinks, compared to Iron Bull who’s had plenty. Yet, he somehow manages to act somber—I guess Qunari’s can hold their liquor better. Varric, Bull, Krem and I sit around a table, an ale in my hand, giving me much needed strength after closing the Breach.

      For dinner tonight, the troops have provided a bon fire, to roast pigs on a spitfire. Logs have been placed around the fire, to keep warm as the night chill begins to descend on Haven. Other troops dance to the music swirling partners around the snowy ground in a cheery routine.

      “Alright Tiny,” says Varric. “How about that one?” The dwarf points to an elf dancing around the fire.

      The Qunari considers the girl, “Too petite. I’d hurt her.”

      “Oh come on, I’m sure you could be gentle,” says Varric.

      Iron Bull gives him a look, “The Iron Bull does not go _gentle_ in bed, Varric.”

      Varric holds his hand up in defense and chuckles, “OK, fine. That’s why you never get laid.”

      I smile, “I’m sure Bull gets laid more than you, Varric.”

      Iron Bull tries to hide his laugh, “She’s right you know.”

      Varric just takes a gulp of his mead.

      “My turn,” says Bull. He scans the many faces, “How about that one, Varric?” The Qunari tilts his head, to a figure sitting beside Josephine. Her hand is resting on her cheek as she listens to Josephine talk.

      “Cassandra?” splutters Varric, nearly spilling his drink.

      Iron Bull nods and gives me a look. I nod back, “Great choice Bull.”

      “I know.”

      “No way. She’s too big.”

      A snort escapes my nose, “How exactly is she too _big_?”

      “I’m gentle, you see. She’s a warrior… she’d like it… Maker’s tits, I’m digging myself into a hole here. She’s too tall.”

      “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of ways to get around that factor,” comes a voice. Dorian sits down in a chair beside me. “You know, height differences are usually more rewarding.”

      “Oh really?” asks Iron Bull, his eyes roaming across Dorian’s muscular frame.

      “I’m not having this discussion,” snaps Varric.

      “Krem,” rumbles Iron Bull. “You’ve been quiet. You’re turn.”

      “Alright Chief. Pick someone good…”

      “Trust us.” Bull scans the crowd again and his eyes settle on the tavern maid, not much older than me. “Her, the tavern maid.” She’s pretty, I’ll give her that. Brown hair that stops at the small of her back, glowing blue eyes, and a small waist.

      Krem follows Bull’s eyes, “Chief, you’ve outdone yourself.”

      But then someone catches my eye and I clear my throat, “I have someone much better.”

      Iron Bull’s eye twinkles, “Go on boss.”

      I tilt my head to the scout sitting on one of the logs near the fire. She watches the others dancing, while chatting to a fellow scout.

      Krem’s eyes seem to light up and he can’t take them off her, “Scout Harding?”

      “She’s cute, she’s got class, yet she’ll stab you in the ass.” I blink, “That was beautiful.”

      “You should be a bard,” says Varric. “Or a writer.”

      “I think I’ll leave the writing to you,” I say, standing up. “And I’ll leave Cassandra with you too.”

      Walking away, I don’t hear Varric’s reaction, but I do see Krem, still watching Harding.

      I give myself a smile. After all, it’s not everyday I close the Breach, have a few drinks with a Qunari and find out that Krem is smitten for Harding.

      I push my way through the crowd, wanting to find some peace and quiet. A small snowy ridge, looking over the celebrations seems like the perfect spot and I stand on top of a flat rock, watching the festivities below. A little cold, I shift my armour, pulling the orange scarf tighter over my throat. The wind tugs at my hair and I shiver. The sun has gone behind the mountains now, night truly setting in.

      “I… I must apologise,” comes a voice.

      I whip around, and my feet slip from the rock. I let out a squeal, just as I’m caught.

      I look straight into Cullen’s brown eyes and nearly piss myself. My eyes run over his shoulders, the furry mane of his armour warm against my cold skin.

      “I’m so sorry.” My voice is haggard, my heart racing.

      We stare at each other for a little longer before Cullen clears his throat and sets me down. I snap from my daze.

      I brush my hands over my armour to get some of the snow off.

      “Apologise… I’ve come to apologise,” says Cullen. “About, the mages. I was too harsh.”

      I shake my head, “I understand Cullen. You’re an ex Templar—you just wanted them to help us.” I look at the Breach, “And maybe I did choose wrong. What if the mages turn into abominations?”

      Cullen sighs, “We’ll just have to deal with them _if_ the time comes.”

      I look at the snow caked on my boots, “My brother is a mage.”

      Cullen tilts his head.

      “I couldn’t let the mages be controlled by the Imperium. They… they could have all been taken there and I couldn’t… I couldn’t allow that…” my voice trails off and I close my eyes. A tear escapes, cold against my cheek.

      “I understand,” says Cullen. “You care for your brother. Anyone would do the same for their loved ones.”

      I look at Cullen and he smiles at me. I return it, “I wish we could ally with the Templars as well. Then the Inquisition would be a formidable force.”

      The Commander gives a small laugh, “If only it was that simple. Now we can’t even contact the Templars.”

      I frown, “What do you mean?”

      “We’ve sent ravens—it’s only curtesy to tell them the Breach is closed. But Leliana’s ravens return to us with the notes still attached to their legs. We don’t know why they’re not replying.”

      “I’ll make sure we look into their silence tomorrow,” I say with a nod.

      Cullen bows slightly, “Thank you. It would put my worries to ease if we got to the bottom of it.”

      “I’m sure Leliana will have agents able to find them.”

      Cullen opens his mouth but stops when Cassandra comes to stand next to me. She nods, “Sorry to disturb you, I can come back.”

      “No, I was just leaving,” says Cullen. He smiles at you, “I’ll… um, I’ll see you around.”

       “See you later,” I say as he walks off towards Leliana and Josephine. I turn to Cassandra, “Anything I can help you with, Seeker?”

      She sits on the rock I had stood on before I majestically slipped off it. She sighs, “Lydia, there is something I need to ask.”

      “Go ahead.”

      Her eyes meet mine, hard and dark, “What exactly happened to _us_ in the future?”

      I swallow, “Apart from being exposed to red Lyrium?”

      She nods.

      I sit down beside her, hands resting on my legs, “You and Varric… were… you were tortured.”

      She closes her eyes but doesn’t say anything.

      I continue, “Both of you never went into detail, but you seemed distant. You were ready to die—just to get away from it all.”

      “And Varric?”

      “He was… cheery, for a dead man.”

      She sighs, “I’ve been having nightmares. Since that day. Only scraps, but it certainly feels real.”

      I blink, “What did you see in your dreams?” I’m actually surprised she’s confiding in me.

      “Torture. Like you said. Varric is there too,” she shudders. Then blinks, seeming to snap back into her harsh reality, “Do not tell anyone I told you about this. I don’t want them to know.” Her voice is harsh—like steel.

      I nod, “Hey, you’ve got my word.”

      She bows her head, “Thank you.”

      Laughter erupts from the crowd as Iron Bull and Varric hold their mugs high in the air.

      “Solas has confirmed the heavens are scarred but calm, the Breach is sealed.” The change in subject is abrupt. “We’ve reports of lingering Rifts and many questions remain, but this was a victory.”

      I smile, “It’s about time. After all that’s happened.”

      Cassandra’s eyes glaze over, like she’s thinking of something… or someone. She blinks and looks at me, “Word of your heroism has spread.”

      I laugh, “Oh come on. I wasn’t the only one who closed the Breach. I mean, without you, I would probably be dead. Without the mages, I wouldn’t have had enough power. And without Iron Bull, I never would have known Krem likes Harding.”

      “What?”

      “Nothing,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Look, we all played a part in this. Luck decided to put me at the centre.”

      Cassandra nods, “A strange kind of luck. I’m not sure if we need more or less. But you’re right, this was a victory of alliance, one of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, the alliance will need a new focus.”

      The clang of armour and footsteps echoes through the valley and I look up to see tiny spots of spotlight spread through the mountain pass. I frown and a bell starts to chime.

      Scouts below us snap into focus, grabbing weapons and armour.

      Cullen rushes towards the gates, “Forces approaching! To arms.”

      Refugees back away in alarm, not suited for battle. Children cry against their mother’s legs, while scouts hurry to defend Haven.

      Cassandra glares at the approaching force, “What the…? We must get to the gates.” She snaps into action, drawing her sword and shield. I look at her and something in my face makes her expression go soft, “We must fight them, it will be alright.”

      She runs and I follow behind her, drawing my own two swords. A knot rises in my throat and stays there like something pushing down on my windpipe. I struggle to breath. Maker… why are they attacking? Who are they?

      Sera rushes to my side, bow in hand, “What’s going on?”

      “We’re under attack,” I say, gripping my swords tighter.

      Dorian follows us, staff in hand.

      Running towards the gates, we meet Cullen there, surrounded by Inquisition scouts and soliders. Harding is gripping her bow, eyes staring at the gates.

      “Cullen?” asks Cassandra.

      “One watch guard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

      “Under what banner?” asks Josephine.

      “None.”

      “None?” she repeats.

      I can’t see the army, but I can definitely hear them walking through the mountains.

      There is a flash of light behind the gates and the jolt from the force. I startle, stepping backwards.

      “I can’t come in unless you open!” comes a boy’s voice. He knocks.

      Without even a second glance, I rush towards the gates, not thinking of the consequences of opening it to an enemy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOohh so the battle begins!! Stay groovy friends!


	20. Chapter 19

I push the gates open to see a pile of bodies scattered across the snow. A warrior, donned in heavy armor and a huge maul in his hands, stalks towards me.

      Blood spurts from his throat and the warrior jolts before dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

      The boy standing behind the warrior seems to be just a little younger than me. A large brimmed hat obscures his face, yet I can see messy white hair falling down to just above his shoulders. The boy’s clothing is patch worked—and it’s obvious he hasn’t changed in a long time.

      I run out towards him, Cullen in tow. Much to my excitement.                                  

      “I’m Cole,” says the boy. “I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

      “What’s going on?” I ask, looking around.

      “The Templars come to kill you.”

      I glance at Cullen and he thrusts his sword near Cole, “Templars?” Cole backs away in fright. “Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?” He looks at me.

      “The red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages,” explains Cole. “There.” In a graceful step, he points towards a ridge jutting from the mountain side.

      I look at the man standing on the ridge, holding a golden sword which glints in the moonlight.

      “I know that man…” says Cullen.

      Smoke seems to blow around him and in a blink of an eye something materializes from it. His skin seems to be like armour and his head glows reddish in colour—like he’s been exposed to red Lyrium. I can’t quite see his face, but it looks deformed. And it stands nearly twice the size of the man Cullen recognizes.

      “But this Elder One…” continues Cullen.

      “Is very angry that you took his mages,” finishes Cole.                                              

      “Cullen?” I ask, my voice a little tight. “I need a plan… anything will do.”

      “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. You need to stop that force. Use everything you can.” His eyes drift to the trebuchet and he draws his sword and turns to face the Inquisition troops.

      My breath hitches slightly and my cursed mind wanders to those muscles under his armour.

      “Mages! You… you have sanction to engage them. That is Samson, he will not make this easy.” His orders snap me back to the present and I watch the Inquisition forces watching their Commander with respect, with pride. They will fight to protect Haven at all costs. “Inquisition,” he continues as goose bumps travel along my arms. “With the Herald!” A quick flash of a smile towards me. “For your lives! For all of us!”  
      The force erupts in cheers and yells, clanging of swords on shields. And they rush towards the enemy, setting out into groups around Haven.

      Cullen gives me a nod before heading back inside the village, helping the refugees and civilians.

      I rush over to the northern trebuchet where some Inquisition soldiers are already taking up positions.

      Sera readies her bow, “Let’s get these piss buckets.”

      Cassandra grips her sword and nods at me, while Dorian flicks his staff, sending a cloud of frost towards an incoming group of Templars.

      They rear back from the unexpected attack, scrambling from the wintery grasp. More red Templars come forward, swords slashing.

      I twist away from them in time to see Sera shoot a Templar, making him topple to the soft snow.

      Soldiers scream orders at each other, trying to keep rank, but failing as more Templars rush towards us. I rip through a group, trying to stop them from hacking at Cassandra as she smashes through with her shield.

      Dorian and Sera stand on the outskirts of the battle, shooting magic and arrows into the Templar marksmen, making our job a lot easier.

      A monster rushes towards us and I turn to examine it. With a gasp, I realise it’s a person… but with red Lyrium protruding from his elbows and shoulders. A helmet is stuck on his face, fangs jutting from his mouth. His fingers are long, nails like claws and his skin is sickly pale and a purple colour.

      I rock back on my heels as it swipes at me, nails nearly scratching against my flesh. Slapping its next attack away with a sword, I thrust my other sword towards him.

      A quick, deep cut sends it squealing and Cassandra spins, her sword swirling with her. In a blink of an eye, the monster is beheaded.

      I look at Cassandra and she wipes her brow, “A Templar Horror.”

      The name really suits it.

      “Centered and cleared! Fire!” yells one of the Inquisition scouts. The trebuchet fires, sending a boulder towards the advancing army. “They felt that! We’ll reload—you get to the other trebuchet. It isn’t firing.”

      I nod at the scout and rush towards the next trebuchet, the others in tow.

      Through the harsh wind beginning to pick up, we make it to the next trebuchet, attacking yet another group of red Templars.

      Cassandra holds her shield as an arrow flies towards her. The tip slams into the metal shield and Cassandra grunts. I throw a blade at the archer, my weapon finding his eye. Cassandra nods a thanks at me and we continue on. Dorian swings his staff, sending a chain of lightning through the Templars. He flicks his foot, retrieving my sword from the snow. He chucks it back to me and we assault the electrocuted Templars. We plough through the rest of the Templars, easily defending their attacks.

      The rush of the battle really sets my brain into overdrive and I hardly count the numbers we’ve taken down. It’s their mistake for attacking Haven.

      “You tits!” yells Sera, sending multiple arrows into the last Templar.

      Inquisition scouts rush towards us, “We’ve got time. Crew the trebuchet. Start firing.”

      Flying up the wooden steps, I grasp the wheel and begin manning the trebuchet. It slowly turns, one slow turn at a time. I glance up to catch my breath and see the moon shining in the sky. It sits low, glinting in the scar left by the Breach.

      Gritting my teeth, I continue turning the wheel. I pant, my breath coming out in swirls of mist.

      And with one last turn, the trebuchet shudders and fires, sending a fiery boulder towards the mountain. A rumble fills the air and the snowy peak begins to shift.

      “Yikes,” yells Sera.

      With a violent speed, the avalanche begins to strengthen and tumble down the mountainside towards the army. Thousands of enemies… people… are buried under the snow. Trees and boulders suffering the same fate. The tiny fires wink out of existence, distinguished like the many lives. A cloud of snow and dust settles of the mountain pass, and silence fills the air around us.

      A horn blows through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. Have we won?

      Cheers erupt through the scouts and soldiers, even Sera shouts something.

      But a shriek fills the air, a sound that sends the Inquisition quiet.

      A streak of red light comes into view and in a blink the trebuchet explodes in a shower of wood.

      I scramble out of the way, Dorian pushing me to run.

      “Oh shit!” yells Sera, and I repeat what she says.

      A shadow flies over us and I turn to see a dragon, giant wings beating, scales almost as dark as the night sky.

      “We can’t face it here,” yells Cassandra. “We have to… do something.”

      “We need to gate back to the gates,” I yell.

      As we run, I watch the dragon circle back around, ready to fire at us again. It squeals as it flies over us, but it doesn’t attack. Perhaps it’s waiting for something—or someone.

      I hear Dorian panting beside me, Sera nearly shitting her pants, while Cassandra runs at the rear, keeping her eye on the dragon.

      The gates come into view, Cullen standing majestically at the open gates, ushering everyone inside, “Everyone inside.” He sees me, “Move it! Move it!” As I run past I feel his hand on the small of my back, pushing me through.

      Once the others are in he closes the gates, but the dragon just flies overhead. So much for safety.

      I look at Cullen for guidance as he begins walking up the stairs, “We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against… that beast.” He turns to me, “At this point, just make them work for it.”

      I grin, “With pleasure.”

      “People need to move,” yells Sera, beyond sane. “Round them up!”

      An explosion rocks the ground as the dragon shoots a ball of fire at a house.

      I hear a scream and see Lysette, fighting off two Templars. I hurtle towards the nearest Templar and send a nice gash across his face. A punch sends me reeling as the other Templar yells in anguish of his friend’s defeat. He swings his sword and I hop away, Lysette hacking at his armour.

      Dorian and Sera send attacks towards him and soon, the fight is done.

      “Good work, Herald,” yells Lysette. “Protect the Chantry!” And with that, she runs towards the building.

      We continue on our way, moving along the pebble path in search of other townspeople.

      “Get it… get it off! It’s coming down!” comes a voice. I spin, my eyes locking onto the burning tavern. Varric’s favourite place.

      The flames lick at the wooden structure and I search for the source of the voice.

      Spotting a woman in the doorway of the tavern, I rush towards her. It’s Flissa, trapped under a pile of debris, “I need help!”

      Cassandra pushes forward and grabs hold of the debris, along with Dorian. With a nod of their heads, they lift the wooden beam. Flissa lets out a small scream as the weight is finally lifted from her legs. I wrap my arms around her and pull her from the burning building. Cassandra and Dorian leap backwards as the roof collapses, sending a plume of sparks into the air.

      I cough as smoke bellows from the building.

      Flissa turns to me, “I knew you would come! We are all blessed.”

      I incline my head, “Happy to help.”

      She runs off towards the Chantry, staying clear of more fires.

      Walking from the tavern, an Inquisition scout rushes towards us, “This way! Someone needs help.” He turns and runs back the way he came, not even checking if we’re following.

      But we are.

      Reaching a house, he stands at the door, “I can’t get to him.”

      Glancing around, I see a ladder, leading to a platform. A plan forms in my mind and without a second thought I clamber up the ladder and up along the platform. The roof of the house has a hole in it and I dive through it.

      Landing in a roll, I get to my feet, seeing Seggrit lying on the ground, clutching his stomach. I help him to his feet and he grumbles, “About time. Let me out of here.”

      I almost let him fall. Almost.

      Barrels and crates block the doorway and try as I might, I can’t move them. The smoke is thicker now and I cough.

      “Herald?” comes Cassandra’s voice. “Step back.”

      I push Seggrit back just as the door is smashed to pieces, barrels and crates in splinters. I blink the smoke from my eyes to see Cassandra with her shield up.

      “You couldn’t have done that in the first place?”

      She just shrugs.

      We reach the Chantry and see more fighting. Threnn holds off half a dozen Templars and we rush into battle, helping her.

      I can feel the ache in my limbs now, from swinging my swords around. Scratches cover my arms and my head still throbs from that punch I took. But I fight through the pain and focus on the Templars. They too seem to be tiring. Kinks in their armour begin to show—a slow attack allows for a counterattack by me, fatal to most. Their heavy armour weighs them down and in a few easy strikes, the rest of the Templars fall.

      Threnn nods, “Thank you. Those shits almost had me. Now let’s go.”

      And so we run to the safety of the Chantry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the end of Haven begins!! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and stay groovy!


	21. Chapter 20

Opening the doors reveal Chancellor Roderick and Cole helping the scouts through the doors. The Chancellor clutches his stomach, “Move! Keep going. The Chantry is your shelter.”

      We run inside and I turn to see him collapse into Cole’s arms. The boy struggles to hold the Chancellor but Cole gets a grip on him and heaves him to his feet.

      One arm draped around Cole, the Chancellor looks pale, deathly pale. And blood stains his robes.

      The boy looks at me, “He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die.”

      “What a charming boy,” murmurs Chancellor Roderick. Cole places the Chancellor in a chair.

      “Herald!” comes Cullen’s voice. He walks towards me, “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

      “I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” says Cole.

      “I don’t care what it looks like. It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven,” says Cullen.

      “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

      I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I can feel my hands start to shake. I will my voice to stay strong, “If it will save these people, he can have me.”

      “It won’t,” says Cole. “He wants to kill you, but no one else matters. He’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”

      “You don’t like…” Cullen seems at a loss, but turns to me. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

      “We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven,” I say.

      “We’re dying. But we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

      I try to keep my face brave, but I can tell the façade will fall any moment.

      “Yes…” comes Cole’s voice. He’s looking towards the back of the Chantry. Turning back to Chancellor Roderick, he nods, “That, Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

      “There is a path,” murmurs the Chancellor, “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.” He slowly gets to his feet, “The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you.”

      I nod in encouragement and turn to Cullen, “Will it work?”

      “Possibly. _If_ he shows us the path,” he hesitates. “But what of your escape?”

      My façade slowly dissolves and I look at my boots, no answer coming to my lips.

      “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” his voice trails off.

      Looking at him, I nod, “Perhaps.”

      He stares at me for a little longer then clears his throat. Turning, he glances at the scouts around the hall, “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move.”

      Cole helps the Chancellor to his feet and they begin their walk.

      The Chancellor stops me, “Herald… if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

      I nod in thanks.

      Some soldiers rush past me towards the doors, “They’ll load the trebuchet,” says Cullen. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line.”

      I take a step towards the doors, Cassandra, Sera and Dorian in tow.

      “If we are to have a chance—if you are to have a chance—let that thing hear you. And… Lydia, be careful.”

      I blink at Cullen’s words and the fact he called me by my actual name. Not Herald, not prisoner… Lydia.

      And it gives me some hope.

 

We run towards the trebuchet and fear courses through my veins. How can I lead these three with me? It’s suicide. They should be with the others.

      Cassandra looks at me, and hefts her shield. With a small ghost of a smile, she nods, “We will exact a heavy price. They will not take us easily.”

      The whole village is on fire now, flames licking at the wooden buildings. It never stood a chance against an attack. I choke back a small cry, and continue on.

      The dragon’s roars still fill the air, but I can’t seem to pinpoint where it is.

      Reaching the trebuchet, I see it’s loaded, but not aimed. That’s got to be done manually. Leaping onto the platform, I grip the wheel and turn to the others, “I’m sorry to drag you into this.”

      Dorian shakes his head, “This is what I signed up for. Nothing like a night of slaughtering some Templars, am I right Cassandra?”

      “Ugh,” is her response.

      A yell fills the air and we turn to see Templars rushing up the hill.

      Cassandra whirls to face me, “Aim the trebuchet. We’ll hold them off.”

      “This is our glorious end. All it needs is aiming,” says Dorian.

      A stab of guilt runs through me and I think back to the future where Cassandra and Varric had fought against the Venatori to give us time.

      Dorian gives me a small smile and his expression seems to say, _‘It’s OK, we’ve got this.’_

      I give in and nod, “Fine. But if you get overwhelmed, I’m coming to help.”

      Hearing the clang metal and pierce of arrows, I glance around every now and then to see if the three need help.

      A Templar horror charges towards the three, but they’re too busy fighting off the other Templars. I leap from the platform, a warning on my lips. But it doesn’t leave my lips as I barrel towards the horror, stopping its charge at the others.

      Cassandra turns in time as I slam into her. The horror tries to crush us, but Cassandra’s shield is in the way. I scream as it roars at us, its foot threatening to snap the shield at any moment.

      It lifts it foot, ready to stomp us, but I jab my sword at it. The monster screeches, stumbling back as it tries to gain balance, but I stab its other leg and it howls in pain. With a final thrust, I tear the horror’s throat apart.

      “Go!” yells Cassandra.

      I take hold of the wheel again, turning it at a painstakingly slow pace.

      My breath comes out fast and heavy and I try to stop the tears from blurring my eyes.

      I hear a scream and turn to see Sera get punched in the face.

      The three are struggling against the force. But the trebuchet is nearly loaded.

      I grit my teeth and rush towards them, pulling Sera to her feet.

      “If this is our last fight, we fight together,” I say.

      The four of us hack, slash, shoot and throw our attacks at the incoming forces. I grunt as I dodge an arrow and whirl around to kill the archer. But a bolt of ice hits him before I can ready myself.

      Our bodies are tired and I want nothing more to go to sleep, but I keep telling myself to fight. I can sleep forever when I’m done with this.

      Cassandra falls to one knee as she blocks the Templar’s attack. Dorian freezes the Templar with a flick of his staff. An arrow shoots through the Templar’s eye and he drops to the ground, blood pooling in the snow.

      A ferocious roar fills the air and we turn to see a giant monster lumbering towards us. Red Lyrium covers its whole body, protruding from its back, arms, shoulder, face and legs. One arm seems to be bigger than the other—a weakness maybe? And its massive, at least twice the size of a Templar horror.

      Sera shoots and arrow and it bounces harmlessly of its armour-like Lyrium body.

      It roars and sends its arm towards us, slamming into the ground. Its arm gets stuck in the snow and it tries to dislodge it.

      “Now!” I yell. We rushing towards it, Cassandra and I hacking at its body, while Dorian tries his hardest to keep it still with frost.

      Sera shoots at various parts of its body, trying to find a weak spot, “I got nothing!”

      It can’t be killed. It’s too strong. I step back as it pulls its hand from the ground. Cassandra grunts in frustration.

      My eyes search for a weakness. Anything that could help us.

      And I lock onto its arm, “Its armour is weakest on its arms—cut them off and he can’t attack us. Then we can try to find a way to destroy it.”

      The three nod at me, readying themselves.

      The Templar… behemoth slowly walks towards us, its twisted face seemingly smiling wickedly at us.

      I grip my swords and wait until its closer to us.

      It takes one step. Then another. And another…

      “Fire!” I yell. Arrows fly throw the air, hitting the monster just above its elbow. It stumbles back and I throw my sword towards its hammer-like arm. It strikes just in the right spot and Cassandra follows my attack by jamming her sword through the behemoth’s arm. Its limb drops to the ground with a spray of snow and Dorian’s ice bolt cuts through the other arm.

      Its roar sends a tremor through the snow as it falls to its knees. And that’s when I see the nape of its neck, completely armour free.

      I rush towards it and leap into the air. I bring my sword above my head and with a scream thrust it down as I land on its shoulders, my blade driving into its neck. With a deafening roar, the behemoth’s struggles begin to slow and it falls face first into the snow.

      Jumping from its back, I rush towards the trebuchet and turn the wheel a few last times before it’s in place.

      A roar cuts me off—it’s the dragon again. I see it flying towards us through the night sky, like shadow.

      I step back, “Move! Get back to the Chantry. Now!”

      We sprint from the trebuchet, as the dragon lets out a breath of red fire.

      My foot catches a rock and I feel myself falling. I land on my knees and see the others continue to run. Good. They need to go with the others. Sera gives me a look of horror, but I wave her off.

      Turning back, the fire around swirls and explodes.

      I’m pushed through the air and land painfully on my shoulder. I scream in pain as I roll to a stop in the melting snow.

      My back aches and my vision is blurry. Flames surround me, smoke bellowing through the air.

      I lift my head with a groan and look around, slowly my vision returning to normal. That’s when I see something walking through the flames. His robes are feathered, a black cloak swirling out behind him. His fingers are like claws, nails long and sharp. It’s that monster that stood on the ridge. And now I can see his face as he walks closer to me. Twisted. He’s twisted. His skin seems to have been burned, pulling his features back tight over his skull. His mouth is covered in scars, always open, teeth white. His has no hair, but Lyrium seems to jut from his face. And his eyes burn red. His chest, exposed seems to have a ribcage of Lyrium twisted through it.

      The Elder One.

      And he just stares at me.

      A rumble makes me turn and I see the dragon come to land behind me. It growls at me, face so close I can smell its breath. And it smells rank.

      Then it roars to the sky and I back away. Stuck between the Elder One and a dragon. My hands shake and fear bubbles through my veins.

      “Enough!” yells the Elder One, his voice deep and oddly soothing. He sends a gust of wind in my direction. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

      “What are you? Why are you doing this?” I yell, but my voice cracks. The dragon continues to stalk closer towards me and I scramble away from it.

      “Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are. What I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus.” He points towards me, “You will kneel.”

      “This doesn’t make sense,” I say, eyeing the dragon and the Elder One. “Let me understand.”

      “Your understanding is not required.” He holds up a black orb, its surface smooth. “If you gain it, consider yourself blessed.” He looks to the orb, as it light up, red lightning crackling along its surface. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now.”

      His arm shoots up and pain cripples my arm. My mark lights up and I grit my teeth through the pain as my hand is pulled towards him. I try to stop it, but he’s too powerful.

      “It is your fault, ‘Herald’. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” He twists his hand and the pain becomes almost unbearable. I let out a scream, but this monster continues, “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched’, what you flail at Rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.”

      With a curl of his fingers, my mark—the Anchor as he calls it—brightens, pain shooting through my whole body. I drop to my knees with a scream, the pain like millions of knives stabbing into me. My body seems to be shutting down. I can’t get to my feet, I’m too weak.

      “And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!”

      I glare at him, “This was given to me by Andraste!”

      Corypheus just laughs.

      “What is this thing meant to do?”

      “It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.”

      He storms towards me and bends down, grabbing my wrist roughly. Lifting me, I can feel the pressure in my shoulder. My feet dangle in the air and Corypheus’ eyes burn into mine, “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the gods and it was empty.”

      In one motion, his throws me from his grip and I fly through the air. In a split second, my back slams against the trebuchet and I grunt in pain, my breath leaving my lungs. I sink to the ground, too tired to move.  Too scared to move.

      “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.”

      I try to keep my breathing in check, eyes flicking back and forth between Corypheus and the dragon. I blink but tears and see a sword lying on the wooden platform. I scramble for it and stand up, gripping it in front of me. But it’s too heavy—I need smaller weapons. But I lost them in the fires. My back presses against the wooden beam for support.

      Corypheus and his dragon stalk towards me and I take a breath. Perhaps this is how I die.

      “So be it,” says Corypheus. “I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and god—it requires.”

      My eyes drift to the mountains behind them and I try to control my thoughts. It’s the only way. As long as Cassandra and the others made it to the path, they should survive. I managed to escape death once. Perhaps it’s finally found me again.

      “And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

      I spot the trebuchet hydraulic that releases the boulder.

      Though… maybe death won’t found me.

       It’s my only chance. Stepping forward, I bring the sword in front of me, trying not to draw attention to my plan.

      “You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not,” my voice is feral. “You’ll face us all. When we choose!” And in a motion, I kick the wheel, sending the trebuchet into action. The boulder flings from its slot and flies through the air, landing with a sickening thud into the mountains behind us.

      And the rumbling begins as the snow bears down on the village.

      Corypheus turns in surprise and I have no time to think but I leap from the platform, in time to see Corypheus flying off in his dragon’s arms.

      I sprint as fast as I can, but I know I won’t outrun the avalanche.

      I never got to say goodbye. Not to my family, to my friends.

      With one final push, I leap off another platform and land on wooden planks. But the planks crack and before I know it the snow is on top of me. But I’m falling, falling away from the earth.

      Falling… falling… falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I loved this part of the games, especially when Cullen was worried! Bless his cotton socks.


	22. Chapter 21

Pain shoots through my hand and I jerk awake with I gasp. Sitting up, I see that I’m in a cavern of some sort, icy and cold. Sharp icicles hang from the ceiling above me. Even my armour and scarf aren’t doing much to keep the cold from seeping onto my bones.

      I stand shakily. Where am I? In a mine of some kind, certainly abandoned, forgotten by the townspeople of Haven.

      My breath comes out in swirls of mist and a tightness begins to set over my chest. How long have I been here? Where do I go? Where’s Corypheus and his dragon?

      The cavern seems to have a little path heading deeper in and with nowhere else to go, I decide it would be best to walk, try to find somewhere warmer.

      My stomach hurts, my heads hurts and my palm hurts—still glowing with the Anchor. But I push on. I just hope the others found their way out of Haven and to safety.

 

It’s only a few minutes before I come to a large chamber in the cave. And on the other side, I see an opening, light spewing from the mouth, “There!” I yell to myself, half delusional. Running, I don’t notice the monsters appearing until I nearly run over them. They screech at me, despair demons if I can remember correctly.

      I scream and stumble backwards, reaching for my blades. But it’s then that I realise I lost them in the fight with Corypheus. The demons shoot snowy beams which I dodge in a mad rush, heading for refuge behind a rock.

      My mark pulses and I glance at it before instinctively I hold my hand up in the air. A small Rift appears from my hand and hover in the air. Green tendrils shoot from the Rift, grabbing hold of the enemies. They scream in anguish, their navy cloaks swirling in their attempt to break free of the tendrils.

      I scramble around from the Rift, back trip backwards on a rock and fall on my butt.

      The demons dissipate and I’m left standing in the cavern by myself.                        

      In a few seconds the Rift disappears.

      I look at my hand, “What the…?” Dizziness sweeps through my mind and I lean forward, the sudden urge to vomit overwhelming my other senses. My vision is blurry and I shut my eyes to keep the world from spinning.

      A groan echoes through the cavern… my groan.

      When the dizziness passes, I shakily get to my feet and look around. The demons just dissolved… taken away by the Rift I created. I swallow the lump in my throat, rubbing my temple.

      Had I just opened a Rift? I only close Rifts, I’m not supposed to open them.

      Had Corypheus done something to my mark with that orb he held in his hand?

      Glancing at the opening of the cave, I begin to walk towards it, though my legs hardly have the strength to keep me upright. That power had sucked my energy.

      Getting to the opening, I cover my face. The wind blows violently and the snowy tundra sprawls out in front of me. I can’t see anything, but the cold seems to be the worst part. I shiver as I begin walking, the icy wind like cold fingers down my back.

      The snow is ankle thick and I shield my face with my arm. Then I hear a howl that sets me on edge. It seems to be quite far away from me, but still, with no weapons, I don’t know how I would fend off wolves.

      I look up and see a faint light in the distance. Very far away. But it’s my only choice, there is no other place to go. I’ve got nowhere to go anymore.

      My feet seem the move on their own accord, one after the other.

      Then I’m walking through I small forest of pine trees, the light begins to get closer. But still not close enough. I’ve lost track of time, I don’t know how long I’ve been walking for. It seems like years. And the cold has started to take its toll. My fingers, gloved, are numb, my toes not much better. I keep sniffing, the cold making my nose run. My eyes water and I cough, a dry, hacking cough that shakes my lungs.

      A desperate scream escapes my lips. I haven’t come this far just to die here. No, I’ve got a family to protect—my brothers, my mother and father. Even my group of companions. I would give anything to see them again. Anything. Over the past few weeks, they’ve become my second family, good friends who look out for each other.

 

I think it’s been around two hours since I left the pine trees behind. Though I can’t be too sure. The snow is now up to my knees and I trudge through it, my limbs slowly weakening. I need to eat, need to drink, need to sleep.

      But I can’t. The windy howl has stopped by now, thank the Maker, and I’m surrounded by rock. And the light seems to be closer now.

      The rock faces create a pathway and I’m determined to get through it. Then I can sleep for a little while.

      I gasp when I see a little fire pit, not burning anymore, but I examine the ashes, “Embers? It must be recent.”

      I look up and continue on my way. I must be close.

      But my knee buckles and I fall to the snow, “No… come _on_.” I bite my lip and push myself to my feet. I take another step, shaky and weak. And another step.

      I let out a scream of anguish and it echoes through the snowy mountains. I grit my teeth and continue. Just keep going. I’ve got to make it. 

      I push myself, moving into the large passage as a howl passes through the air.

      But I keep going and I can see light… fire burning in the darkness. And I can’t feel my legs anymore… darkness blurs my vision.

      “There!” cuts a voice and Andraste preserve me, it’s beautiful. “It’s her!”

      My knees buckles into the soft snow.

      “Thank the Maker,” comes a familiar accented voice.

      But darkness surrounds me before I can thank them.

 

+++

 

I think I’m dreaming. But I’m in Cullen’s arms as he stumbles through the snow. Cassandra walks beside him, talking about how cold someone is. There’s a furry cloak draped over me. Warm…

      Then the dream blacks out and next thing I know, I’m lying in a tent, furs wrapped around me. Someone is stroking my hair, but I can’t see who it is. Though the whole group seems to be sitting in the tent, asleep. It calms me that their close to me, here with me.

 

With a groan I open my eyes, sleep escaping me. My whole body feels heavy, and the memories flood back to me.

      Did I make it to Cullen? He was calling to me. And Cassandra? And did he actually carry me back? And what of the group in the tent? I don’t know if that was a dream or reality.

      Glancing around, I don’t dare to move, but I can see that I’m in some kind of make-shift camp. Hide tents have bene pitched in rows and people mill around the fires, trying to keep warm.

      Furs cover me and I’m lying in the open, apart from a piece of canvas blocking the wind from me. I sit up when I hear voices.

      “What would you have me tell them? This isn’t what we asked them to do,” comes Cullen’s voice. I’m still sleepy, but I keep focused on the voices.

      “We cannot simply ignore this. We must find a way,” Cassandra’s voice cuts through the icy chill, but I’m glad to hear my friend’s alright.

      “And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing,” argues the Commander.

      I pinpoint the group, arguing between each other. Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine and Leliana stand underneath a canvas, sheltered from the elements.

      “Please,” says Josephine, stepping between Cassandra and Cullen. “We must use reason. Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled.”

      “That can’t come from nowhere!” snaps Cullen.

      Leliana steps forward, defending her friend, “She didn’t say it could!”

      “Enough,” shouts Cassandra. “This is getting us nowhere.”

      “Well we’re agreed on that much,” shouts Cullen. And the advisors storm off, the only ones capable of making decisions can’t agree on what to do now.

      A hand gently cups my shoulder, “Shh, you need to rest.” I turn to see Mother Giselle, mixing some herbs together. I take hold of the mug she passes me, “Drink, darling. You will feel better.”

      “Thank you,” I say, taking a sip. It tastes like honey so I drink more, trying to get rid of my perched throat. “How long was I asleep for?”

      Mother Giselle looks to the night sky, “Two days.”

      I nearly spit my drink out, but tilt my head to where the advisors had stood a few seconds ago, “They’ve been at it for hours, haven’t they?” my voice is hoarse.

      “They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

      “Where is Corypheus now? I saw him escape.”

      “We are not sure where _we_ are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him.”

      That’s a frightening thought. Not knowing where we are.

      “That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.

       I swallow the last of the honeyed herbal medicine, “If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there… to help them.”

      “Another heated voice won’t help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her return.”

      I slowly sit up, bringing my legs over the wooden bed, needing to stretch.

      “The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trails seen ordained. That is hard to accept, no? _We_ have been called to endure? What _we_ , perhaps, must come to believe?”

      “Mother Giselle, I just don’t see how what I believe matters… I mean, I believe, it’s just… lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We can’t match that with hope alone. No matter how much I wish it were that way.” I push myself to my feet and walk from the make-shift bed. Leaning against a wooden beam, I try to think straight. But my thoughts are going a million miles an hour. Maker’s ass, what have we gotten ourselves into?

      Leliana and Josephine and huddled together, close to the fire. But they don’t speak, they’re comforted in each other’s arms. Cullen stands by himself beside a tent, staring at the snow… and I can’t help but think how lonely he looks. Maybe he needs someone to talk to… No, not now—I’ll stuff it up. My eyes flick to Cassandra. She’s studying a map—pretending to study a map, but her eyes float towards the group settled in the middle of the camp. My inner circle—the people I’ve come to protect are huddled around another fire, talking quietly amongst themselves.

      I just don’t know what to do. I’ve never been in this situation before. My family would usually take care of matters for me. Now I had to deal with this. If Corypheus wants me, he’ll have to fight me.

      “ _Shadows fall_ …” comes a voice, singing. “ _And hope has fled_ …” I turn to see Mother Giselle, head bowed and hands tucked in the sleeves of her robes. But she is singing. “ _Steel your heart, the dawn will come._ ”

      People begin to turn towards the Mother, listening as she continues.

      “ _The night is long, and the path is dark_ ,” she comes to stand beside me. “ _Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come._ ”

      Leliana looks up from her embrace with Josephine, “ _The shepard’s lost_ …” her voice joins with Mother Giselle’s. “ _And his home is far_.”

      And soon, more join in, “ _Keep to the stars, the dawn will come_.”

      Cullen looks to the skies and closes his eyes, the choir taking hold of him.

       “ _The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come._ ”

      The survivors of Haven stand in front of me, singing, smiling, and nodding. Then they begin to bow, even my companions. They look to me for help.

      “ _Bare your blade, and raise it high, stand your ground, the dawn will come. The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come._ ”

      Goose bumps travel down my arms as I watch the survivors bow, looking to me.

      Once the song finishes, they begin talking amongst themselves.

      “An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause,” says Mother Giselle. She walks off into the crowd of cheering people and I watch her go.

      “A word?” I turn to see Solas and I follow him.

      A lone torch scone sits in the snow, unlit, but Solas walks up to it and lights it with blue fire. He turns to me, “A wise woman, worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it. The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is Elven.”

      I blink, “How do you know all this?”

      “I walked in your memories… saw what you saw. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach, Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived… nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin.”

      “Alright,” I say, “What is it and how do you know about it?”

      “They were foci, used to channel ancient magics. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire’s magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our Alliance. I cannot allow that.”

      “The whole mess is confusing, I can see how elves might be an easy target,” I say with a nod.

      “History would agree. But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction.”

     

+++

 

I will remember what Solas told me that night, two suns ago. I will remember his directions, his instructions, and pray to the Maker he’s right. The Inquisition is counting on me.

      As we set up camp, after a long day of hiking through the mountains, I think of his words.

      “ _By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you. Scout to the North, be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow…_ ”

      A place? It must be big, and when we find it, I’ll make sure the Inquisition is stronger than ever before. I will fight Corypheus. I’ll fight for the Maker, for Andraste—for the gift that has been given to me. I will stop the end of the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH, Ok, so I had trouble figuring out how to write in the journey to Skyhold bit, because the convo with Solas just kind of cuts off and suddenly they're walking to Skyhold. But I have great visions of scenes to write before they reach Skyhold, so I had to cut the conversation mid-way. BUt fear not my children, the next chapter will be up soon.


	23. Chapter 22

A stab of pain snaps me from reciting Solas’ words.

      “Sorry,” says Varric, glancing at me.

      “Where did you learn to clean wounds anyway?” I ask, shifting so his can wrap a bandage around the cut on my arm.

      “Ah, there were a few merchants in the guild that taught me a few tricks. That, and I had a healer for a… friend.”

      I nod and look to the quiet camp. My tent is an open canvas canopy, so I can watch the soldiers on guard duty… and I’ll never admit that I want to be sleeping in the open tent so I can quickly run if need be—if Corypheus attacks. There may be hardly any privacy, but to be honest, I’d rather have people able to see me sleeping than be trapped in my own tent if we’re attacked. Especially when my swords are gone—and we don’t have any spare weapons that suit my skills. Harrit said he would help me forge some new swords once with actually find a forge.

      “There, you should be good to go. It’s not everyday you get thrown into a trebuchet and cut yourself,” smiles Varric.

      “Thank you,” I say.

      Someone walks into the tent and we both look up.

      Cassandra, dressed in a cotton tunic and pants, stares at us. Her feet are bare and the braid she usually twists into a crown now dangling, a black rope, over her shoulder. Her expression hardens, “What are you doing here?”

      Varric glances at me and I swallow, “Well, it’s quite a sad story. Varric…”

      He clears his throat, “Ah… originally Tiny, Sparkler and I were to share a tent. Dangerous combination, but all things considered, they decided to let three others take the tent and move to a two man tent. Long story short, I’m the odd one out.”

      “So you have to sleep in this one?” asks Cassandra.

      “There’s enough room for three,” I say. “Come on Cassandra, everyone else has been allocated a tent.”

      “Unless I share with Vivienne,” suggests Varric, though he doesn’t seem happy with the idea.

      Cassandra cocks her head, “I’m sure she would appreciate the company.”

      I’m not sure if she’s joking or not.

      I sit down on my bed roll and she gives me a look, “I’m in the middle?”

      I grin, “Well, I’m sure Varric won’t mind being next to you.”

      Her eyes flare and I hold my pillow up in time to shield a punch from Cassandra. A playful punch, but I’m sure they’d hurt like a tit none the less.

      She sits down heavily on her own bedroll and shimmies under the furs. I grin at her, snuggling into my own furs, her response an eye roll.

      I can see Varric awkwardly trying not to make too much ruckus and his eyes keep drifting back to Cassandra. The warrior herself is on her side, facing me. Her eyes are shut, but she certainly isn’t asleep yet.

      A smile creeps along my lips and I have to hide it in the furs, so Varric doesn’t see. I can see him struggling to not touch Cassandra’s braid.

      “Good night!” I yell.

      Murmurs ripple around the camp as others settle in for the night.

      “Maker’s tits, could you say that any louder?” asks Varric, lying under his furs.

      Cassandra groans, “If you want to keep your spot in the tent, please stop talking.”

      Varric shoots me a look and I laugh silently.

      But soon, sleep pulls at my mind and the last thing I see is Varric smiling softly at a sleeping Cassandra.

 

+++

 

It’s cold. Too cold. My joints feel stiff and my nose is cold. I sniff, trying to unblock my runny nose.

      Eyes fluttering open, I’m curled up in my furs and from the light filtering in, it must be morning. A yawn escapes me, but I try to keep it quiet, so not to wake the other two.

      My eyes drift to the open flap and my whole body freezes. I don’t know what to do.

      They all stare back at me.

      Leliana and Josephine are giggling like shy maidens and Cullen is going red. Iron Bull and Dorian on the other hand are grinning from ear to ear. I stare in horror at them. Vivienne seems to disapprove as Sera wiggles her eyebrows at me.

      Have I got something on my face? Did I do something funny? I haven’t woken up naked have I? No, Andraste preserve me, a quick check at my tunic tells me otherwise.

      Josephine points to something beside me.

      I turn and see Cassandra, sprawled across the floor, her braid a mess. But that’s not the only thing. Her arm is draped over Varric’s chest, a leg curled around his stumpy ones.

      My eyes grow wide and I sit bolt upright, trying to take in the details. They both sleep peacefully—which is quite weird. Cassandra is usually the first one up way before I am. Perhaps she finally found some comfort in having Varric with her. And since she’s still been having nightmares from the future, having Varric—who was also there—is perhaps the Maker’s miracle to her.

      I grin at the thought.

      Varric himself isn’t much better. His arm rests on her side, his face near hers.

      Dorian waves me to get up and I panic. I’m wearing only loose garments… and Cullen’s here. I swallow and heave myself up, trying not to make a sound. And trying not to think how loose my tunic is.

      Taking a step, I hear Cassandra grunt, but she doesn’t wake.

      I send a look to Dorian and he grins, moustache twitching.

      Now I have to get past Cassandra’s legs. I step over one but brush against her furs. Her other leg shoots out and I try jumping over it, but my feet get caught up and I topple over.

      A scream escapes me as I land on top of the two.

      And I swear to the Maker, I think I’m about to die.

      Cassandra’s eyes snap open, as I land on her, but Varric pushes me away and I land at the feet of Josephine.

      Sitting up, I see Varric, eyes puffy from sleep, staring at me. But realization dawns on him,

“Shit! I thought you were a… an intruder or something.”

      I lay there, not daring to breath, because he hasn’t noticed yet. But underneath him is Cassandra, lying on her back, his butt on her torso. Varric is _straddling_ her. Yet strangely, she doesn’t move. Though I have a feeling she’s in shock.

      “I… I tripped,” I manage to say. “I guess Stumbles went stumbling.”

      Then Varric notices the crowd around our tent, “Ah…” And he seems to realize who he’s sitting on, “Maker’s tits!”

      “Get off me,” growls Cassandra.

      “Bet you weren’t saying that before,” says Iron Bull, bursting out into a bellowing laughter that will probably wake the rest of the camp up. 

      Varric leans back, hand resting behind him, seemingly forgetting about getting off Cassandra. He challenges Bull with a glare, “What was that?”

      But no one is paying attention to him, but where his hand is resting.

      Cassandra, being the unfortunate soul acting as a bed roll to Varric, she is a prime spot for Varric’s hand. And his very hand is resting atop her breast.

      “Varric?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “What is your hand doing?”

      Varric’s eyes follow ours and in a second he stands, “Well, I’m going to get some breakfast.” He clears his throat and brushes his hair from his eyes.

      Iron Bull wiggles his eyebrows, Dorian going red from holding in his laugh. Cullen seems too shocked to function and even Sera is looking at Cassandra’s clothed breast with shock.

      Even I can’t form any words as Varric leaves the tent.

      My eyes drift to Cassandra, who seems to be trying so hard not to scream. Her jaw is set tight, making her jawline even more pronounced than it already is—a feat I didn’t know possible. Her eyes stare at nothing, but I see a blush creep along her cheeks.

      “I think it would be best to start packing up,” says Leliana, her voice filling the stunned silence. “According to Solas, we are but another day’s walk from away destination.”

      “Brilliant idea,” says Josephine with a clap of her hands.

 

+++

 

I walk with Solas beside me and he urges me forward. Cresting a rocky mountain, I see it, carved from the rocks that it sits on. The place—the _palace_. A castle, ancient, yes, but certainly a new home for the Inquisition.

      “Skyhold,” he says.

      And I’m too stunned to speak.

      It takes another half hour to reach the castle, but finally we’re here.

      As we walk across the stone moat bridge, we all begin clapping and cheering. After four days of continuous walking and trekking through the mountains, we have finally found it. All thanks to Solas. He was right, we can rebuild here and we can hopefully grow.

      As morning turns to afternoon, the Inquisition continue moving what’s left of our supplies into the abandoned castle.

      Soldiers have already been posted to the parapets, to keep an eye on the surroundings. I smile at them as I walk past, taking in the view of the mountains around us.

      Descending the stone stairs down the tower, I come to the castle bailey. A small medical area has been set up on the grass, where healers ease the wounded through their pain.

      People carry crates to various buildings for domestic life in the castle.

      I’ve changed into a beige tunic and tight matching pants, studded with gold. My boots are fur-lined, up to my knees, and so very warm.

      Though the castle walls keep most of the chilly wind out during the day, as the sun disappears, I know it will just get colder.

      I spot the advisors chatting amongst themselves, probably fighting again as usual.

      Deciding it would be best to heed Mother Giselle’s word, I set out to find something else to do—it would be best not to add to the disagreements. Plus, it seems they’re fine without me.

      Cassandra catches me and they all turn to look at me. I feel like a thief caught in the act, but Cassandra waves me over, with a small smile on her face.

      Even Cullen gives me a smile that nearly sends me stumbling.

      But as I get closer, the others leave, Cassandra the sole one standing, hands clasped behind her back.

      I smile at her.

      “They arrive hourly from every settlement in the region. And more will come, I’m sure of it. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” She glances at the people milling around, some hugging their lovers, others doing what they can to help with the preparations.

      She looks at me then turns and I follow her up the stone stairs towards the courtyard, “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.” Cresting the stairs, we pass under an arch. “But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.” She stops and turns to face me.

      I look at my hand, “He came for my Anchor, and now it’s useless to him, so he wants me dead. That’s it really.”

      “The Anchor has power, but it’s not why you’re still standing here,” she says. We continue our walk. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven.” We head up the stairs we had just passed under. “You are the creature’s rival because of what _you_ did. And we know it, all of us.”

      We crest the angled stairs, and Leliana stands on the stone landing, head bowed. She holds a sword out in front of her.

      “The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it.”

      I look at Cassandra, too stunned to say anything. She can’t possibly think I can lead the Inquisition.

      Cassandra nods and I look at the golden sword Leliana holds. A dragon is wrapped around the hilt, pommel a large ball of gold. The blade itself shines, sharp and strong.

      But then I notice the crowd below us, looking up at me. They all smile. Some are familiar faces, others I’ve never seen before.

      “You,” says Cassandra.

      I swallow, “I… don’t know what to say.” I look at Cassandra and she smiles.

      “Say that you will not make me regret this.”

      “If you’re not sure, why do it?”

      “Because I believe this is what was meant to be, that without you there would be no Inquisition.” I turn back to Cassandra. She gestures to the sword Leliana is holding. Walking towards the weapon, Cassandra continues, “What it means for the future, how you lead us, that is entirely up to you.”

      Can I really do this? I’m a Trevelyan, meant for the life of the Chantry, to have suitors picked by my parents, to marry off into other nobility. Being the leader of the Inquisition is something way out of my league… isn’t it? But if Cassandra believes so strongly—if those people down there are waiting for me to lead, then it is my duty to do so.

      My hand reaches out and wrap around the hilt of the sword. I gently take it from Leliana’s grasp.

      My eyes stay on the sword, “Corypheus will never let me live in peace, he made that clear.” My eyes drift to the crowd, voice raising a little higher, “He intends to be a god, to rule over us all. Corypheus must be stopped.”

      “Where ever you lead us,” nods Cassandra. She walks to the edge of the landing and looks to the crowd, “Have our people been told?”

      “They have,” says Josephine, stepping forward. “And soon the world.”

      “Commander, will they follow?”

      I hold the sword, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

      Cullen steps forward with Josephine, pacing in front of the crowd, “Inquisition! Will you follow?”

      Cheers erupts from the crowd and I can’t help but smile.

      “Will you fight?”

      More cheers, louder this time. By the Maker, I hope Corypheus doesn’t hear our cheering, he’d certainly come to ruin the party.

      “Will we triumph?”

      They continue cheering and I give Cassandra a smile. She nods back at me.

      “Your leader! Your Herald!” He unsheathes his sword and spins, pointing the blade at me with a smile, “Your Inquisitor!”

      I thrust the blade in the air, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. The crowd clap and yell, pointing at me and I feel like this really is what I want. Maybe not what my parents want, but there is nothing better than feeling this. Everyone wants to be around me, everyone believes in me.

      I see Josephine throw her hands in the air, screaming with the crowd. Cullen watches her and with a blush, she recedes to clapping softly.

     

We push the doors open, finally opening the reach of the castle. Cassandra had decided to help with the supplies, leaving me with the advisors. I walk through to wooden doors, the three others behind me and take in the shambled reach we now call home.

      The red rug is torn all the way up to the back of the building. The large glass stained window at the end of the building, probably once depicting a great image, is now shattered. Walls are falling apart and debris lies scattered over the floor. A few chandeliers have fallen from their screws in the ceiling and lie broken in the filth.

      It’s dark as well, candles long since burnt out, so that will be our first task in—

      My foot catches on a loose wooden board and I trip, ready to land yet again on the ground.

      But Cullen’s arms shoot out and catches me in an awkward hug. I grip his arms, the metal of his armour surprisingly cold.

      Josephine has her hand over my mouth, “Oh my! Are you alright?”

      I smile, “I’m fine… just stumbling again.”

      “Varric’s nickname certainly suits you.”

      I ease away from Cullen, though my body protests to it. He clears his throat and looks around the reach.

      “Thank you Cullen,” I say. “That’s twice you’ve saved me from face-planting. If there’s a way I can repay you…” Maker’s breath, what am I saying?

      Cullen shakes his head quickly, “No, it’s fine. You’re fine. Um, that’s not what I mean. I mean that… you seem to be fine—no broken bones.” An actual blush creeps along his neck and I’m surprised. “No repayment is required,” he manages to say. “Consider it a friend helping a friend.”

      Now I think I’m blushing.

      Leliana is looking at the two of us like we’re children.

      “So,” says Cullen. “This is where is begins.”

      We continue walking through the mess and I make sure I don’t trip again.

      “It began in the courtyard,” says Leliana. “This is where we turn that promise into action.”

      “But what do we do?” asks Josephine. “We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark.”

      I turn back to the others and they watch me expectantly. I clear my throat, “Could he strike at us here? We can’t have a repeat of what happened at Haven… I won’t allow it.”

      Cullen nods, “Skyhold has the bones to withstand Corypheus. After what you did with one trebuchet, I’d bet against direct attack.”

      “We do have one advantage,” says Leliana. “We know what Corypheus intends to do next. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated.”

      “Imagine the chaos her death would cause. With his army…” Josephine cuts herself off.

      “An army he’ll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us,” cuts Cullen.

      Josephine nods, “Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god.”

      Leliana sighs, “I’d feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with.”

      I nod, “We’ll sort it out, I promise. But right now, we need to get this whole castle cleaned up or we’ll all die from tripping over.”

      Josephine laughs, “Maybe just you, Inquisitor.”

      “It’s highly likely, yes.”

      We all share a laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really needed some Cassarric fluff in the story, and you can bet there will be more to come. I really hope that scene wasn’t too OOC, but hey, I really wanted it in there!! And Lydia’s crush on Cullen will definitely begin to turn to something more… and of course the other pairings I have in this story! From now on, there’s going to be less main storyline and more character development, but after that they’ll be on their away. *Coughs* Meeting Hawke *Coughs*. Stay groovy my friends!


	24. Chapter 23

It’s been a week since moving into Skyhold, but I still can’t get used to the view from my chambers. Being named Inquisitor has opened up a whole new level of responsibilities. Such as maintaining my room. A large queen-sized bed is placed in the middle of the room, a desk sitting in the corner with all sorts of parchments waiting for me to read and sign—such is the life of the Inquisitor. The sword that was given to me as Inquisitor has been hung on the stone wall, along with a painting of a Halla—one of my favourite animals. And the majestic rug on the floor always seems to get dirty.

      A memory ripples through me and I smile. Talking to Cullen today certainly made it a good day. He was happy I had made it from Haven and… and he had promised to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. His words keep repeating in my mind that I can hardly concentrate on anything else

       I close the book I tried to read and look at the sun setting over the mountains. Rays of sunlight shine through the sky, and from our location, the scar in the sky isn’t visible. It’s definitely a nice change. After finishing a report, I finally get to relax for a little.

      A knock at my door urges me to rise from my bed, “Coming.”

      “Hurry up, Inky,” yells Sera. “The drinks are gonna get warm.”

      I rush down the stairs, grabbing my cloak as I open the door, “Let’s go then. Wouldn’t want you to miss out now.”

      “Bull’s got a game of Wicked Grace going,” says Sera.

      “Don’t lose too much gold.”

      “Pfft. As if.”

      The courtyard is crowded with people, all drinking and yelling. After a week of unpacking, reorganizing and a lot of war council meetings on my part, Iron Bull thought it would be a great idea to have a celebration for the new castle. Of course, it’s also just a ploy for drinking.

      “Too noisy to sleep tonight, I bet,” continues Sera.

      “Well, considering you sleep in the tavern.”

      “Upstairs though, yeah? Better than downstairs. Smells of sweat.”

      I laugh, “It is a tavern Sera.”

      She giggles, “I know. Best spot in Skyhold. Away from mages and Creepy.”

      Pushing our way through the crowd, we reach a table with Bull, Dorian and Varric. The Chargers all sit around, drinking mead and Krem grins at me when I arrive.

      “Didn’t start without me I hope,” says Sera, taking a seat.

      “Not in a million years, Buttercup,” says Varric. He looks at me, “And you, Lydia? Would you like a game of Wicked Grace?”

      “I’m betting those breeches I stole from them mercenaries,” says Sera with a wicked grin.

      “I’ll leave the breech betting to you guys,” I turn, but Dorian catches my eye. Moving to stand beside him, I grin, “So I heard you and Bull shared a tent last night.”

      “Nothing out of the ordinary happened, you can be assured. We simply thought it would be best to give a lucky group of three the chance to be more comfortable.”

      Varric deals out the cards, “Yeah and leave me out.”

      Dorian’s eyebrow rises and his eyes flick to me. Over the shouts in the tavern, he tilts his mouth towards my ear, “Of course, Bull and I wanted to see him and…” He trails off.

      But he doesn’t need to finish his sentence, “I’m sure that worked out better than expected.”

      “Oh it was beautiful. She hasn’t talked to him for days though.”

      “We’ll just have to organize another way then,” I say with a grin.

      He nods and grins back, “Send me a note when ready.”

      “I’m sure there will be a need to go to the library… pick up a few books.”

      He winks at me and I take my leave, moving through the crowd.

      Speaking of the Seeker, she’s nowhere to be found—typical, but strange. I’d thought she’d come for a little while.

      Leliana sits at a small table, talking quietly with Scout Harding. A bar maid walks past me and I grab a drink from her tray with a thanks.

      Sitting down, both Leliana and Harding look at me.

      “Your Worship,” smiles Harding.

      “We were just talking about you,” says Leliana. She still wears her hood, even in the middle of a tavern.

      I freeze, “What about me…?”

      “All good things, I assure you,” nods Harding. “I’m to meet you tomorrow at the Exalted Pains.”

      I sigh, “It seems like such a wonderful place.”

      Leliana smiles, “It will do good to close some Rifts there. Spread the Inquisition’s influence.”

      I take a sip of my drink.

      “But for now, enjoy this night.”

      Harding’s eyes drift around the tavern, searching, as we sit in silence.

      I clear my throat, “Harding, I hope you weren’t too injured in the fight at Haven.”  
      She quickly turns her attention back to me, “Oh no, completely fine your Worship. A few scratches here and there. And a bruise on my back that really hurts—I bumped into a chair.”

      I laugh, “Nothing too bad then.”

      “The bruise hurts to lay on, but other than that, I feel fine.”

      “I’m sure one of the healers could fix you up.”

      Leliana smiles, “I hear the Chargers are very good at healing. Being under Iron Bull’s command has taught them quite a lot. Especially Cremisuis, his second lieutenant.”

      Harding swallows, “Oh, perhaps… perhaps they could help me with my bruise.”

      Leliana nods.                                                                                                                 

      A smile creeps along my lips as Harding looks at the table the Chargers sit around. I know she’s watching Krem. She snaps back to reality, “I ah… I better go gather my team for tomorrow. I’ll see you later your Worship.” She nods to Leliana, “And have a good night, Leliana.” She scurries off through the crowd, losing her confidence.

      “I had hoped she’d go talk to him,” says the Spymaster.

      I cock my head, “Playing romantic are you?”

      “I do like to see people happy.”

      “By all means, continue. I’m trying to get Krem to talk to her.”

      “Oh, they’ve talked. Not a lot, but a few words passed between each other.”

      I blink, “How do you know… never mind, you know everything.”

      “I do have eyes and ears everywhere.”

      “Comforting to know.”

      “And you, Inquisitor, should learn how to flirt.”

      I nearly spit my drink out, “What are you talking about?”

      “Josie is quite efficient with the skill, I’ll organize some lessons with her for you. The Game does require quite the skill. And she’s one of the best. Even if she hasn’t found someone yet.”  
      I’m still in shock, “No truly, it’s fine. I… I… don’t need any lessons.” I blink, “Alright, you win. Maker have mercy, I’m so hopeless.”

      “The sooner you accept, the better it will be.”

      I sigh, “This is why no one wanted to marry me. Mother sent me so many suitors and either I didn’t like them… or they didn’t like me.”

      Leliana smiles, “Cullen is just as bad as you. I’m sure you both match each other’s… skills.”

      I let out a laugh, “I’m sure Cullen has many others chasing after his affections.”

      Leliana just looks at me. We sit in silence for a few minutes and I watch the crowd around us.                                                                                                                            

      “It would probably be wise to check on Sera. She may have lost more than a few breeches.”

      I blink, “What will you do?”

      “I have many things to do, I’m sure I’ll find something.”

      “Well, Josephine’s here, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having a drink with you.”

      Leliana regards me and I grin sheepishly. But she nods, “Perhaps I will.”

      I move off towards the table. Cheers break out as Iron Bull scoops up the coins he just won from the hand. He grins like an idiot, high-fiving Krem.

      Leaning against the wall, I watch them. Varric huffs and Sera throws her hands in the air, “Tits!”

      I notice a small hush fall over the tavern, though the others keep playing their game. I turn to see Cassandra standing next to me.

      “So you decided to join us, did you?”

      “Only for a little while.”

      “Hey that’s fine. I mean, as long as you have _some_ fun.”

      “I’ll try my best.”

 

The clock chimes eleven, yet I’m still not tired. Harding had come back from her earlier departure and we sit around a table, along with Iron Bull, Krem, Varric, Blackwall and Sera. And I’m sure Harding is blushing so fiercely she could glow. And I don’t blame the poor girl. Some of Sera’s story is a little too detailed, though I’m itching to find out what happened to the girl she was flinging with.

      Sera reenacts a scene by placing her fist on the table and rubbing her arm with her other hand, “… and I was elbow deep in…” her voice trails off and she looks at the crowd, her smile widening. She cracks into laughter, so loud, almost everyone turns to look at her. “Cassandra’s in trouble!”

      I turn to see Cassandra, pressed up against the wall, a man trying to seduce her. And she looks ready to kill the poor man. I feel sorry for the man—it could possibly his last mistake. And with the fist Cassandra has against his arm, I’d say he may be in the infirmary for a few days.

      Dorian’s eyebrows shoot up and I share a look with him. He nods in agreement.

      “Should we help her?” I ask.

      “No, let the woman be,” says Dorian. “If she’s lucky, she’ll get some action tonight.”

      Varric looks at me, “Lydia, it may not be a good idea. Imagine her in the morning. Maker, I don’t want to be there for that.”

      “She’s a big girl now, I’m sure she can break his arm if he touches her in unnecessary spots,” I continue, trying to gauge a reaction from him.

      And it works, “Please Lydia… I don’t want her to regret it.”

      I blink, moved by his genuine concern. I stand and Harding does the same, coming with me to rescue the Seeker. I push my way towards the Seeker.

      “Cassandra!” I yell. “I need you for something.”

      The man looks up at me, “Oh Inquisitor… I’ll… I’ll…” he leaves, scurrying away, forgetting about his drink.

      “Ugh,” Cassandra steps away from the wall she was pinned against. “I was capable of handling him, you know. I do not need you to help me all the time.” She hands me my drink. “Next time you can get the drinks.”

      Cassandra herself hasn’t had a drink all night.

      I glance over to see Dorian grinning at me and Varric glaring at me. I try not to grin back at Dorian.

      “I may take my leave now,” says Cassandra, brushing a stray hair from her face. “The Exalted Plains will certainly be tiring tomorrow.”

      I nod, “I might actually join you. I call hear my bed calling me.”

      Harding nods, “Oh yeah. It’s whispering to me.”

      The two of us giggle and Cassandra turns to leave.

      But she hesitates, “Inquisitor?” She turns back to face me. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter with fluffy goodness!! I’m thinking the next few chapters will be the same, where they go to different locations, though I don’t think I’ll write all of them in there. The main quests aren’t enough to flesh out the characters (and a lot of stuff needs to happen before Hawke arrives), so for now, just enjoy the fluff that will certainly continue. 
> 
> Also, I just want to thank everyone for giving my work kudos-- 50 of you!! I really can't believe that you all have taken the time to read my work, it truly makes me warm and fuzzy inside. Stay groovy my faithful children.


	25. Chapter 24

I drop a match into the pit of bodies and watch as the flames spread, burning everything in its path.

      “That’s the last one,” I say. I still haven’t gotten used to the smell of these abandoned ramparts. Well, not so abandoned now that the dead walk amongst the debris.

      Dorian scans his surroundings, “I like the idea of moving away from these body pits. They really do smell a little bad for my taste.”

      Turning, we move away from the ramparts as troops begin filing in. Corporal Rosslin gives me a wave and a nod of thanks, which I return. Continuing along the path, I take in the bleak surroundings.

      The grass is brown, dying under the harsh humid air. Fires still burn, licking at the blackened trees. And the bodies. So many bodies scattered around the plains, it makes me sick. So many troops died in the Orlesian Civil War. The buzz of flies soon gets annoying.

      Most of the day is met with walking, closing Rifts and the occasional walking corpse fighting.

      But, as the day fades away, our activities slow. It’s late afternoon as we walk through the burnt forest of trees.

      “So what’s your estimation, Varric?” asks Dorian. “Think we can win?”

      Varric, who’s taken the lead, looks back at Dorian, “You aren’t asking me to give odds on our beloved Inquisitor’s success?”

      “What would that look like? Three to one?” he chuckles and I shoot him a look.

      “In her favour?” asks Varric.

      “After Corypheus pulled an Archdemon out of his ass, are you joking?”

      “You would actually bet against me?” I ask.

      “Now, now,” calms Dorian. “If I weren’t here, it’d be five to one at least.”

      “Oh dear Maker,” I scoff. “Dorian, you’re only reason I survived that avalanche at Haven. It must have been your good looks that brought me back from the dead.”

      “I knew it,” he grins.

      “Ugh, yes. Thanks to you, our Inquisitor survived her ordeal in Haven,” says Cassandra, her eyes continuously scanning our surroundings.

      “Good to hear you agree, Cassandra,” grins Dorian.

      She just scoffs.

      We reach the greener part of the Exalted Plains, and it’s breath of fresh air. The war hasn’t touched this part of the plains yet, which is a small mercy.

      “I don’t really know much about any of you,” says Dorian. “Oh, I’ve got an idea, let’s play a game.”

      “No,” says Cassandra.

      “Yes!” I squeal.

      “If the Herald of Andraste wants to, we must be but her humble servants,” Dorian gives me a bow and I push him away. “First question. We are all nobles, are we not?”

      I blink, “Are we?”

      Varric nods, “My House _was_ of nobility, until we got banished to the surface. Even then we were still pretty well known. I was born in Kirkwall, so I didn’t live much of the noble life.”

      “I would not have taken you as nobility, Varric,” I joke. “As Vivienne says, that chest hair really isn’t a noble fashion.”

      “Ah, Inquisitor, you wound me. But yes, as surprising as it is, I am from noble blood.”

      I look at Dorian, “We all know you’re Tevinter nobility.”

      “Quite right, my dear friend. From House Pavus, residing in Qarinus. Wonderful place, you should visit.”

      “I’ll add it to my list,” I say with a smile.

      He nods, “Make sure it’s at the bottom of your list. But, you, Lydia Trevelyan?”

      “Ah yes, I am from the humble family of Trevelyan,” I say with a grin. “A House full of idiots.”

      “Oh, sounds lovely.”

      Our eyes all turn to Cassandra, who’s watching our surroundings. She stares at us, “What?”

      “Your House, _Lady_ Cassandra?” I say.

      “I’m sure you already know.”

      “Oh come on, just for me?” asks Dorian.

      “If I’m to be your friend, I need to know what House you’re in,” I joke.

      She sighs, “As you wish. I am daughter of the royal house of Nevarra. 78th in line to the Neverran throne.”

      Varric whistles, “Quite the nobility there, Seeker. Maybe those 77 people will drop dead and you’ll have the throne to yourself.”

      “I do doubt that will happen.”

      “I doubted the world could get anymore messed up. Then the Conclave exploded.”

      “My bad,” I say.

      Cassandra glares at me, “That is not something to joke about.”

      “My bad,” I repeat.

      She grunts.

      Varric eyes Dorian off, “Shouldn’t you be married by now, Sparkler?”

      Dorian shrugs, “If my family had their way.

      “Had someone lined up for you, huh?”

      “Livia Herathinos. Bright girl, hourglass figure, wicked tongue. Relieved I’m gone, I expect.”

      “Well, that’s nice,” I say.

      “Sounds like you two would have made a happy couple,” grins Varric.

      “Oh yes, trading coy insults at every party would have been a delight.”

      “Remarkable relationship,” I comment.

      “It is, isn’t it?”

      We reach a small stream, trickling slowly. It’s the only fresh water around here and when I step in it, the cool water is certainly a nice change. The green foliage we were walking through only seconds ago now spreads out into the dead plains again, hardly a tree in sight. Giant rock structures are littered around the plains, twisted in all sorts of weird shapes.

      I turn to Varric and Cassandra, “Should you both be married by now?”

      “Makers tits, no way,” says Varric. “But… once this mess if finished, maybe I’ll settle down. Write a few more books, while my wife keeps the children out of trouble.” He grins at me.

      Dorian looks at Cassandra, “Did you family throw suitors at you too?”

      The Seeker sighs, “My Uncle did, waves of them… until I broke one’s arm. Then there were fewer. And then I became the Divine’s Right Hand.”

      I trip at her words, nearly landing fully in the water, “You broke a man’s arm?”

      Dorian laughs, “I must admit I never tried that.”

      “Nor I,” I agree.

      “It was an accident,” she argues. “Well… mostly an accident.”

      “So, you were capable of breaking that man’s arm at the tavern last night?” asks Dorian.

      Cassandra’s eyes flash, as we climb up the shore on the other side of the river, “Yes, I could have.”

      “But you didn’t.”

      “I’m sure the Seeker has better things to do than break men’s arms,” says Varric. “As long as she doesn’t break mine.”

      I freeze, my eyes taking in the sight before us, “Maker…”

      Varric raises an eyebrow, “You alright, Stumbles?”

      A grin spreads across my face and I bound towards the Halla, grazing in the open plains. They all snap their heads towards me and race off, escaping my clutches. But I don’t care. I run around, laughing care free. Halla truly are the most beautiful creatures and to be so close to them has made my day.

      I sit down in the middle of the plains, watching the Halla as they slowly calm down. Their white pelts are dirtied from the dust hanging in the air, their horns twisting towards the sky. Hooves beat against the hard ground as they search for food. One of the creature’s bounds closer to me, testing my scent.

      I hold my hand out, but it skits away, too scared.

      “I think he likes you,” yells Varric.

      I stand, the grin still on my face, “The Exalted Plains isn’t as bad as I thought it was.”

      “For you perhaps. But I’d prefer a place where bodies aren’t lying around everywhere,” says Dorian.

      “We’ll find a nice spot to camp for the night,” I say.

      “The sun is soon to set,” nods Cassandra. “I would prefer not to be out here at night.”

 

+++

 

The fire splutters as a log shifts under the heat, sending sparks through the thick night air. Varric throws a stick into the murky river that flanks our campsite.

      “Anyone up for a swim?” he asks.

      It’s night time now, but when we were setting up, the water was certainly dirtier than the smaller river we crossed earlier that day. The water’s surface is slick with oil, possibly from the war. And Maker knows what type of creatures lurk under the surface.

      I shiver, “I’ll give it a miss.”

      “I always used to dare Hawke to swim in the shores of the Wounded Coast,” smirks Varric. “She never did, but it was always worth a try.”

      “Ah yes, you wrote The Tales of the Champion, didn’t you?” asks Dorian. “There’s a copy of that in the Skyhold library.”

      “I am the author, yes.”

      “And you wrote… High in the Hightown as well? Does anyone actually read those books?”

      Varric smiles, “Why, anyone with some taste and a lust for adventure do. And if they’re brave enough, they read Swords and Shields.”

      “Oh, even I haven’t read that one,” says Dorian.

      “Can’t say I have, either,” I comment. A yawn stops me from talking. “Well, I’m gonna head off.”

      Dorian nods, “I’ll take first watch. Who knows, a demon might rise up out of the water.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update today, because I'll probably spend all night playing the new DLC!!!!!!! I'M SO EXCITED. But anyway, stay groovy children.


	26. Chapter 25

The rookery is most certainly the nosiest place in Skyhold. Black ravens squeak, following me with those beady eyes. Leliana’s scouts nod at me as I walk towards the spymaster. Cullen stands with his back turned to me and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

      “So am I,” comes Leliana’s reply.

      Cullen turns and gives me a small nod before retreating back to his chores.

      Leliana looks up from her papers and flicks her wrist. Her scouts move off, giving us some privacy. In her hand is a small metal capsule. “The names of those we lost.” Her voice is soft. “You must blame me for this.” The spymaster leans over the table, her hood covering her darkened features.

      I step forward, a hand coming to her shoulder, “We all saw who attacked us. We know exactly who to blame.”

      She shakes her head and stands, my hand sliding from her shoulder. She looks out to the window, “I keep wondering if I could’ve done something different. When the first of my lookouts went missing, I pulled the rest back, awaiting more information. If they’d stayed in the field, they could’ve bought us more time.” She sighs, “I was afraid to lose my agents, and instead we lost Haven.”

      “You look out for your people, Leliana. That’s a good thing.”

      “Is it? My people know their duty, they know the risks. They understand that the Inquisition may call upon them to give their lives.”

      I frown, “Our people aren’t tools to be used and discarded. Your instincts were right. Their lives matter.”

      Leliana looks at me, “Can we afford such sentimentality? What if Corypheus—”

      “We are better than Corypheus.”

      Leliana looks at the table in front of her, thinking, “Perhaps you’re right.” I smile at her and she sighs, “Thank you for understanding.”

      I nod, “Glad I could help.” Looking around the rookery, I see various parchments ready for delivery, I see many packages ready to be opened. “I do seem to know quite a lot of people, Leliana.”

      “I’ve made friends and, on occasion, enemies. It’s unavoidable.”

      “Tell me about it,” I mutter.

      Leliana places the metal capsule on the table, watching me.

      I swallow and look up, meeting her gaze, “You had a history with the Warden who ended the Blight, didn’t you?”

      She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes darting from mine.

      I straighten, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

      “No it’s fine. She’s… she’s always in my thoughts, even when she became Queen and I parted ways with her. She’s the only person I trust wholly.” A small smile spreads across her face. “She’s now on a quest of her own…”

      I blink, “That’s why she wasn’t with King Alistair in Redcliffe. She was busy.”

      Leliana purses her lips, “I do hope she’s alright… I care for her.”

      That way Leliana’s eyes stare into the distance at the mention of the Warden and how her fingers play with one another makes me wonder.

      “Leliana… you were a close companion to her, weren’t you.”

      “We went everywhere together during the Blight. We were best friends…”

      I smile at her, my heart swelling. It seems that Leliana may have wanted to be more than friends with the Warden—I can see that much by the small blush on her cheeks.

      The spymaster clears her throat, “I better not keep you. After all, you have chores to do. As do I.”

      I nod, “It’s nice chatting to you, Leliana.

      “And you, Inquisitor.”

     

+++

 

I groan, glancing at Cassandra who just nods.

      Josephine grins at me, “Please, I’d like to dispatch a courier asking the banns of House Trevelyan to align themselves with us. What are your thoughts? Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?”

      “It is a very bad idea. Mother will have a fit when she learns that I’ve been running around killing demons.”

      Cassandra lets out a small laugh, while Cullen seems to be blushing slightly. Leliana just bows her head.

      “I… I… alright. Fine, when they learn I’ve been touched by Andraste, they’ll be sure to have a fit. But I will write them a letter. They’ll respect the request if it comes from me… and they’ll know that I’m alive and well.”

      “Wonderful!” squeals Josephine.

       I groan again, “I’m sure it won’t be when we receive a reply from them. It will be at least 5o pages.”

      “I look forward to reading it,” smiles Josephine. She scribbles a note onto her parchment and glances at Cullen, who nods.

      The Commander clears his throat, “Now, onto the combat side of operations. As you did in the Exalted Plains, we will need you to continue scouting in other locations.” He points to the pieces placed around the map, “Rifts have appeared almost everywhere in Thedas and the more we close, the better the Inquisitor will become. We need the influence. We need those Rifts closed.”

      I nod, “Where’s our next location?”

      He points to the piece southwest of Orlais, where the map in yellow, “The Western Approach.”

      “A desert, oh Maker, just what I want,” I say.

      Josephine purses her lips, “Better you than me.”

      Cassandra stares at the piece, “The wildlife is quite dangerous there.”

      “And my scouts have sighted the Venatori troops in the area,” says Leliana.

      “We’ll leave in the morning. Dorian will want to help kill some of the Venatori and Varric can tag along too,” I say.

      The advisors nod. And it feels weird that they now consider me their leader. That whatever I say has superiority over their thoughts. It’s scary in a way. I was a noble back in Ostwick, and yes, I may be the first in line to the throne, but I never considered leading. I’d have advisors and helpers for that. And even my parents would help where they could.

      I try not to think I’m on my own here—I have these four with me to help with my decisions. And that’s a small mercy.

 

+++

 

Cassandra sits on a wooden stool in the corner of the courtyard. The practice dummies have finally caught a break as Cassandra seems to be occupied by something else at the moment. The sun is low over the sky, late in the afternoon. She’s wearing her armour still, even though we’ve finished our jobs for the day.

      A book rests on her thigh, her hands tucked neatly into her lap. Her head is bend, reading the words on the page and a small smile plays along her lips.

      I approach her slowly, surprised by her quiet reading session. I love books, so perhaps we could swaps titles one day—or head to the library to read together.

      “Good book?”

      Cassandra snaps from her book and stands with frightening quickness. She shouts in surprise, hiding the book behind her back so I can’t see the cover, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      I blink, “Wait… are you blushing?” I let out a laugh.

      “What would I have to blush about?” she asks. Her eyebrows are raised—surprised. Though I can tell she’s more embarrassed then anything. The blush creeping up her cheeks gives it away.

      “You tell me,” I say with a grin.

      “It’s of no interest to you, I’m certain.” She doesn’t meet my gaze.

      I just watch her.

      She drags her eyes from the ground and glances at me before picking the book up off the ground from where she tried to hide it in the grass. “It’s a book.”

      “I can see that,” I say.

      She holds the book close to her chest, “It’s one of Varric’s tales.”

      My eyebrows shoot up, “Oh? So you do like his writing. We were having that conversation only a few nights ago in the Exalted Plains.”

      She looks at me, “It’s _Swords & Shields_, the latest chapter.”

      “So you like to read, what’s wrong with that. Maker forbid, I do it too.”

      Cassandra gives me a sigh, “It’s frivolous, there are more important things for me to do. Like pack for the Western Approach.”

      “Wait… you said the latest chapter. Meaning you’ve read them all?”

      “Not… since this all began. We’ve been busy.”

      I see Dorian walk over to us, a smirk on his face, “That’s just her favourite.”

      “No one asked you, _Tevinter_ ,” Cassandra snaps.

      Dorian just laughs, winking at me. He begins walking away, eyes on Cassandra, “I couldn’t finish the last one you lent me. I actually feel dumber for having tried.” He continues on his way to the library.

      Cassandra shakes her head slightly, “It’s literature. Smutty literature.”

      “Oh?”

      She steps closer, “Whatever you do, don’t tell Varric.  

       “Me? No! I would never,” I say, trying not to laugh.

      Cassandra sighs, “They’re terrible. And magnificent. And this one ends on a cliffhanger. I know Varric is working on the next, he must be!” Her eyebrows shoot up again, “You! You could ask him to finish it, _command_ him to…” She stops herself, her face turning back her hard expression. “Pretend you don’t know this about me.” She turns away, “Go have some supper.”

      “I can’t just pretend this didn’t happen,” I say with a smile.

      But she goes back to reading her smutty literature. So I head up to the small dining hall which has been set up in the reach. While construction gets under way for rebuilding Skyhold, wooden scaffolding have been built all over the fortress. Even inside the keep.

      At the wooden table is Varric, sipping a jug of beer, along with a plate of roast pork. He looks up from the letter his writes and grins at me, “Stumbles? Why don’t you take a seat? Share some pork?” He quickly folds the letter, sliding it into his pocket.

      “Who are you writing too?”

      He waves his hand, “No one important.”

      I blink at his discreetness. Surely if it was no one important, he’d tell me. But before I can say anything, a maid places plate in front of me and the sight of food makes my mouth water and the question is lost.

      Varric and I dig into our meals.

      And I can’t help but grin, “Varric…?”

      “Yes Stumbles?”

      “I just saw Cassandra in the courtyard reading… and she seems to be waiting for the next issue of _Swords & Shields.”_

      He stops eating and glares at me, “I must have heard that wrong. It sounded like you just said that Cassandra read my books.”

      I wiggle my eyebrow at him, “She seems to be a pretty big fan, in fact.”

      “Are we talking about the same Cassandra? Tall, grumpy Seeker. Likes stabbing things.” He takes a gulp of his beer as if to wash the information down. Then he nearly chokes on it, “Wait, did you say the romance serial?”

      I nod, “She likes getting ideas from it.”

      Varric shakes his head, “I didn’t need to know that.”

      “Sure you did,” I say with a grin.

      He groans, “She’ll be waiting a while for that then. I haven’t finished it and wasn’t planning to. That book is easily the worst I’ve written. The last issue barely sold enough to pay for the ink.”

      “Well, Cassandra seems to be hooked on it.”

      “And I honestly thought a hole in the sky was the weirdest thing that could happen. So… you want me to finish writing the latest issue of my worst serial. For Cassandra.”

      “Just think of how pleased she’d be.”

      “Oh that’s such a terrible idea, I have to do it. On one condition: I get to be there when you give her the book.”

      I raise an eyebrow, “You’ve got a deal.”

      “I’ll get to work then. You know, the fact that the book is terrible just makes it more worthwhile, somehow.”

      The rest of our dinner is uneventful, yet Varric keeps talking about possible twists for the next chapter. While all sound like a wonderful idea, I’m sure Cassandra will be happy just to get the next installment.

      Dorian and I may yet still win this mission we’ve set out to complete. The Seeker and the Storyteller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you haven't gotten the new DLC yet, I do recommend!! It's really beautiful and pretty and... ahhh!!   
> But anyway, here's a lovely chapter for you all. I hope you enjoyed. I must say, the Guilty Pleasures mission is one of my favourite companion quests, because it develops Cassandra's character. I mean, she's just like us!! She fan girls over the characters in Swords & Shields, and we fan girl (or boy) over this fandom!! But yes, enough rambling. Enjoy your day!


	27. Chapter 26

Scout Harding glances around the endless dunes of golden sand, “Inquisitor, welcome to the Western Approach. I’d just like to warn you of the sand storms and the vicious wildlife… very welcoming indeed.”

      I grin, “Sounds fun.”

      “Krem and the Chargers are trying to help with the Venatori patrolling this desert, but I haven’t heard back from them yet.” He eyes flit back to the desert. Searching… searching for Krem, possibly.

      “Hey, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Iron Bull trained them well.”

      She smiles and inclines her head, “Of course. But… this just might be the worst place in the world. Have fun. And be careful out here. I’ll head back to Skyhold when the Chargers come back. And we’ll share stories over a few drinks.”

      “That sounds so much better than being out here.”

      She gives me a smile then heads into her tent, readying her reports.

      Cassandra and I walk together, watching our surroundings.

      I brush the hair from my face, “It’s too windy.”

      Cassandra nods, “It’s hot and the wind doesn’t do anything to cool us down.”

      “Maker take this stupid heat.”

      Cassandra actually chuckles.

      “Or, perhaps if you wore less armour, it would be a little cooler for you both,” comes Varric’s voice from behind.

      Cassandra sighs, “I do believe no one asked for your—” she cuts herself off as Varric comes to walk beside her.

      His usual armour—a long sleeved armored tunic, with an open chest to show off his hair, has now been replaced with a sleeveless cuirass. His bare arms are well toned, veins bulging underneath his very tanned skin. Even his shoulders are toned, strong and Cassandra and I are both stunned to silence. Not that Cassandra would agree.

      She clears her throat, “What are you wearing?”

      Varric looks up at her, “Armour. Would you prefer I didn’t wear anything?”

      Cassandra grunts, “It may as well be that way.”

      A snort escapes Dorian.

      Cassandra waves her hand, “That’s very impractical armour. You could easily be injured.” I can see how flustered she is.

      “A moment ago you were complaining about the heat. I had the mind to change into something more suitable for this terrain,” says Varric. He nods to our armour, “It’s too hot to be in full armour. You both will drop dead before we close some Rifts.”

      “You’ll get injured,” snaps Cassandra. “And I won’t be the one hauling your body back to Skyhold.”

      “Oh, dear Seeker. You would leave me out here alone in the desert?”

      “At least you won’t be hot,” I say.

      Varric chuckles, “Look, I’ll be fine wearing this.”

      A quick glance at Cassandra tells me she’s trying not to look at him. Though her arms sometimes drift back to his arms when she thinks no one’s looking.

      “And anyway,” continues Varric after a few steps. “I need my arms free to move better with Bianca.”

      Dorian squints, “That could be taken a very different way.”

      I laugh and it echoes through the desert, “Maker,” I say dramatically. “I need my arms free, so I can move with you better… Bianca. It’s for the best Bianca…”

      Varric just shoots me a look and I grin at him.

     

The day drags on, the sun staying high in the blue sky and I wonder if the Western Approach even has a night. The day just seems so long.

      “Ten, Stumbles,” says Varric.

      I cock my head, “Eleven for me.”

      He scoffs, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Maker’s tits… by one. Sparkler?”

      “Only nine. I was only going slowly so you could kill more demons.”

      “Not performing at your best, are you?” I ask.

      “I’m afraid not.”

      “Perhaps Iron Bull could help with that.”

      That earns me a look, “He wouldn’t help with my performance, more so just… pleasure.”

      “Thank the Maker for clearing that up for me,” I say.

      “You are quite welcome.”

      “Seeker? How many demons did you kill?”

      She looks at us all in turn and sighs, “Thirteen.”

      “That’s not fair,” snaps Dorian. “I tried helping you Varric, but you didn’t win.”

      Varric sighs, “Seeker wins fair and square. Though, how did you manage that?”

      “It must be I’m more confident in myself with proper armour on.” she snaps and continues walking, her pace fastening.

      Dorian, Varric and I all exchange looks.

      Walking along a sand dune, we soon find ourselves facing an entrance to a cave. The rocks around the mouth of the cave are red from the sand, and hot to touch.

      “Should we investigate?” asks Cassandra.

      I shrug, “We might find something of value.”

      Varric hefts Bianca from his back, “Whenever you’re ready Stumbles.”

      I look at him, “You better stay back Varric. Wouldn’t want you to scratch your bare arm on a sharp rock.”

      “Ugh,” says Cassandra, walking past me and into the cave. We follow her, and Dorian holds out his hand. A flash of blue light erupts from his hand, and the glowing blue fire hovers above his palm, lighting up the cave.

      Spires of rock hang from the ceiling like fangs threatening to bite own on us at any moment. Continuing through the small tunnel, shadows we keep our weapons out, searching for any enemy or loot.

      We’re silent, the only sounds are the dripping of water and our footsteps. The tunnel spread out into a wide chamber, with three different paths heading off in different directions. Boulders are scattered around, and a little stream of water snakes its way along the sandy ground.

      Dorian sweeps his hand in front of him and jerks back, touching my arm.

      I jump back at his sudden touch, a small squeal escaping my lips.

      “Cobweb,” he says, wiping his hand over his robes. He grins at me, “No need for alarm.”

      “Ugh, Maker preserve me,” says Cassandra. “Can we continue?”

      Varric, who’s searching for loot in front of us, suddenly looks up. Dorian shines his Veilfire towards the dwarf. Varric’s arm is covered in cobwebs. I’m not going near him.

      He grins, “It seems no one’s been here in a long time.”

      “Ah, that’s good. No Venatori will sneak up on us then,” says Dorian. “Shall we continue?”

      A screech stops us. A bolt of fear shoots down my spine. I’ve heard that noise before. Somewhere…

      Dorian searches the chamber, his blue light washing over interior, “Bats?”

      More squeals this time, and they’re closer.

      Something moves in the darkness of the chamber, away from Dorian’s light.

      Varric scuttles back over to the group, his crossbow ready.

      “We can’t fight in the dark,” says Cassandra. “We don’t know _what_ we’re fighting.”

      Dorian thrusts his hands out, spreading the Veilfire across the chamber. It hangs in the air like a chandelier and I’m blinded for a second.

      Blinking back the spots in my eyes, I see large black _things_ coming towards us.

      But then with jarring fear, I notice the black things have eight hairy legs. And multiple eyes. And sharp fangs.

      Everything seems to slow around me, but my heart is beating so fast I feel as though it’s going to explode from my chest.

      And I scream.

      It’s certainly not intentional, but my most primal instincts pull at my throat and it’s the only thing I can do without dying right there on the spot.

      But I can’t bear to even look at the three spiders rushing towards us.

      I bolt.

      Cassandra yells something, but I can’t hear it over the blood rushing through my ears.

      Running as fast as I can away from the chamber. Through the tunnel. I can see the light and before I know it I’m out of the tunnel and into the blinding desert. Sand flicks around me and I can’t keep myself upright. Before I know it, I’m tumbling down the sand dune, ass over tea kettle.

      Coming to a slow halt, I get to my knees, but it seems as though all my strength has left me. My stomach boils in fear, heart pounding and my hands shaking.

      I feel sick.

      That screech I heard was exactly like the one I heard in the Fade. Where Divine Justinia had reached out to me—where she had saved me. I shudder. My biggest fear…

      A hand clamps down on my shoulder and I start, swinging my body around. But it’s only Cassandra.

      I choke back a sob, but I can feel tears in my eyes. I wipe them away before they spill over, “Spiders… I don’t like them.”

      She nods, “Dorian and Varric are taking care of them.”

      I run a shaky hand through my hair and shiver, even in the hot weather, “I’m sorry.”

      Cassandra sits down next to me, “Why?”

      “I… I bailed on you guys. When you were in danger.”

      Cassandra smiles, “Running from a cave because you have a fear in spiders isn’t something to be sorry for. We understand.”

      I let out a small laugh, “And then I tripped on sand and went tumbling down a dune.”

      “I must admit that I did see you rolling down it.”

      “Was it graceful?”

      “No.”

      “Next time then.”

      Cassandra smiles at me and I watch as her hand moves. Slowly, she takes my hand in hers and squeezes. Only softly, “We all have fears, Lydia. Do not be ashamed.”

      I sigh and squeeze back, “I know…” Another shiver wracks my body.

      “Think of something to distract yourself.”

      I lock eyes with her and a grin actually spreads across my face, “Well, I know what distracts you.”

      Her eyebrows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

      I wiggle an eyebrow, “Varric’s arms.”

      She scoffs, her hand pulling from mine, “I would rather fight a bear than look at his arms.”

      I just stare at her, knowingly, “Admit it. He has very nice arms… and shoulders.”

      “No.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because it’s not true.”

      “Hey, I was pretty stunned when I saw them too. Who knew he hid such nice muscles under those tunics of his.”

      “He’s too busy showing off his chest hair.”

      “Which I’m sure you stare at that too.”

      Cassandra stands, “If this is your meaning of distracting yourself, I’m going to leave.”

      I scramble to my feet, laughing, “Oh come on. It’s just some fun.”

      “Are you two finished yet?” comes a shout. We look up to the top of the dune to see Dorian and Varric standing there. Varric holds Bianca high in the air, “We, your fellow knights in shining armour, have defeated the foul beasts.” Even from down here, his arms are quite distracting.

      Cassandra looks at me and rolls her eyes, “As poetic as ever.”

      I grin, “Must be a quote from his _Swords & Shields_.”

      Cassandra just pulls me by my arm and we start our ascent back up the dune. She clears her throat, “And if you must know… his arms _are_ quite distracting.”

      And the final thought of spiders leaves my brain and a grin spreads across my face.

 

+++

 

The slow rock of my mount nearly puts me to sleep, but with the thought of returning to Skyhold swirling around in my brain, I just can’t sleep. I need a bath and I want to sleep in my own bed again. With a mattress—anything’s better than a bedroll.

      Cassandra and Dorian ride up ahead, chatting about their families.

      Though Cassandra’s still struggling with the nightmares, she does seem to be getting a lot more sleep. But Varric… the bags under his eyes tell me he’s not so lucky. And if Cassandra gets dreams from the messed up future, maybe Varric does too.

      I swallow, trying to find the right words, “Varric?”

      The dwarf looks at me, a small smile on his face, “Stumbles?”

      “Are you getting enough sleep?”

      He frowns and looks away, “What makes you think that?”

      “The dark bags under your eyes are a good give away.”

      He sighs and nods, “Well, no. I’ve been dreaming. Having nightmares…”

      “About the future?”

      He snaps his eyes back to mine, “How did…?”

      My eyes flick to the back of Cassandra’s head then to him, “Cassandra has the same thing. Nightmares about the future we stopped in Redcliffe…”

      I see his knuckles turn white as he grips the reins tighter, “They’re horrible, Lydia. I don’t know how you could stand being in that future.”

      I blink, “You both endured more than me and Dorian.”

      “But, you changed that. It hasn’t happened to us.”

      “But it could have,” I say. “It could have happened. You could have been tortured by those Venatori. You could have been exposed to the red Lyrium.”

      “That’s a lot of ‘could haves’. But, the only thing plaguing us now are the dreams.”

      I sigh, “I know they’re bad Varric. I was there.”

      His eyes grow dark, watching Cassandra, “They… they had tortured me, yes. But she endured most of it. Hers was physical. Mine was… mental.”

      I look away, “How much have you seen?”

      “When you ‘died’, they took us straight to the dungeons. I didn’t see anyone for a few days. Then they took me to a room and beat me. And only when I thought it was over, those bastards brought her in. And… and… broke her. They did horrible things to her.” He runs a hand through his hair.

      I don’t push him. I know it’s hard for him.

      “They are nearly drowned her… they beat her, broke her limbs. And I had to watch everything.” He looks at me, “I’m glad you prevented that future, Stumbles. I don’t think I could live knowing what they did to her.”

      My eyes drift to Cassandra who rolls her eyes at a grinning Dorian.

      “I’m glad too Varric.”

      “I wouldn’t worry about us, Stumbles. We’re fine. And it seems as though Cassandra’s getting through her nightmares better. I think it’s because of you she’s become more… approachable.”

      “Because of me?”

      “She’s made a friend—a friend she can trust. Her trust isn’t easily gained.”

      I smile, “I’m glad she’s finally found a friend.”

      Varric grins, “About time.”

      I laugh, “Maybe when you finish _Swords & Shields_, she’ll have another friend.”

      Varric scoffs, “I wouldn’t be too sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Maker, I’ve turned into a monster. I keep adding Cassandra/ Varric scenes into the story and I can’t stop! I’m sorry for the angsty torture conversation. We never got the full story of what happened to our companions in the future and I thought the dreams could be a good way to show it. There will definitely be more fluffy Cassandra/ Varric scenes to come, minus the torture. And still a little more before Hawke shows up to progress the story. But I’m sure you guys don’t mind a break from the main story line. If so, don’t hesitate to shoot me a message!


	28. Chapter 27

“We’ll cook this up for dinner, yeah?” asks Sera, holding up her game. The two hares in her hand dangle lifelessly. But they do look fat and juicy.

      “I think they’ll make a nice soup,” I say.

      Sera grins, “Yes!”

      We ride into Skyhold, guards greeting us and we dismount. The stable hands taking our horses away.

      Iron Bull bellows a laugh, “It’s good to be back in time for a few drinks.”

      “I might have to join you in that,” I say.

      It seems as though the advisors have come to greet us from our two day expedition into the Emerald Graves.

      Cassandra walks beside me, while Sera hangs from Bull’s horns.

      Cullen smiles at me, “I hope the Emerald Graves weren’t too much of a hassle.”

      I shake my head, “A few red Templars roaming the hills, but we took care of them.”

      His face turns grave, “I’m glad they’re disposed of.”

      Josephine looks at the game Sera holds, “Soup for dinner?”

      “You bet,” says Sera.

      Varric waltzes down to the courtyard, a grin on his face, “I do believe you owe me a drink Bull.”

      “Couldn’t have said it better myself, dwarf.”

      Sera climbs from Bull’s horns and starts swinging the hares in my face. I bat them away, but she continues, “Join us in the tavern.”

      “Maker, alright! Just get the hares away from my face.”

      She stops swinging and cackles.

      I look at Cassandra, who just shrugs. Continuing towards the tavern, I try not to laugh as Sera cartwheels her way towards the building.

      Cassandra suddenly stops walking, a gasp escaping her. A hand wraps around her stomach and she bends slightly over—in pain by the looks of it.

      “Cassandra?” I ask, stopping. Sera stops her cartwheeling and looks over.

      The Seeker waves a hand, “I’m fine… just cramps.”

      A loud gasp from Sera makes me turn to her and she’s looking at Cassandra in horror. Silence passes for a few seconds before the elf takes a giant breath, “Cassandra’s on her cycle! Everybody run!” She pegs the dead rabbits at an Inquisition scout and screams as she runs towards the tavern.

      And if I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure everyone heard her message.

      Cassandra herself seems to be in a world of pain, embarrassment _and_ horror. Her face is twisted in a scowl, but then she groans, “Maker preserve me.”

      Cullen’s face a turned a shade of red and Josephine has her hand over her mouth. Leliana’s face is hidden behind her hood, but she seems to be as shocked as Cassandra. Even Iron Bull and Varric are shocked into silence. And the other Inquisition scouts watch Cassandra in fear.

      I wrap an arm around the Seeker and look at the shocked crowd, “What? You’ve never heard of a woman’s menstrual cycle before?” I help Cassandra walk as she tries to keep her dignity alive.

      Varric chuckles, “Never give a woman a blade when she’s bleeding.”

      Cassandra’s head snaps up, “Why you insolent little dwarf.” She leaps from my hold, but I manage to pull her back in time.

      “Whoa there, Cass. Stop it,” I say. “Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary. I know just the thing to help with those cramps.”

      She follows without another word. A venomous glare at Varric is the only attack she has left but she groans in pain, her eyes screw shut.

      Josephine follows us and she shares a glance with me, “A drink of warm milk and honey, with a dash of elfroot always helped me.”

      “I always have a warm bath,” says Leliana. “That calms my stomach.”

      Scout Harding nods, “Also a nice warm cup of lemon tea.”

      I grin, nudging Cassandra softly, “See, you’re not the only one.”

      “My dear, ginger and cinnamon is very good for you,” says Vivienne.

      Iron Bull chuckles, “I hear having a climax is a very good way to release your stress.”

      I choke, “A climax as in… a… um…”

      Varric turns to Bull, “And where did you hear that from?”

      Bull just shrugs and turns back to Cassandra, “You do seem a little frustrated. If you need help, just let me know.”

      “It’s never going to happen,” snaps Cassandra.

      Bull bows his head mockingly, “Apologies for given offense. I will stop making invitations, Seeker.

      The Seeker straightens, “I thought you were in a relationship anyway.”

      I raise my eyebrows, “Oh, this is getting good.”

      Bull just laughs.

      “Dorian is right over there,” says Cassandra.

      “By all means, lets discuss this together,” shouts Dorian.

      Iron Bull pouts, “Go get yourself cleaned up. I can see a stain on your pants.”

      Cassandra jumps, a shout of fright rippling across the courtyard. She searches for the stain.

      “He’s joking, Cassandra,” I say, pushing her towards the infirmary.

 

+++

 

After five days of reports, letters, running across lands in search of Rifts and war council meetings, I’m glad that today I decide to do something different—all thanks to my power as the Inquisitor. Morale has certainly declined because of the amount of work we’ve been doing, but I hope to change that.

      I had brought everyone to the Hinterlands, in hopes of developing better team work and friendship among the groups. The advisors seemed to be put out by the determination of my inner circle, but soon everyone is chatting away. Cole seems to be the loneliest. No one really wanted to talk to him—or they did and we just can’t remember.  

      So as we near the end of our trek, I walk beside him, “How are you, Cole?”

      He turns to me, eyes hidden behind his large-brimmed hat, “You stopped the hole in the sky. Now it isn’t loud for the spirits to think. I’m glad you stopped it.”

      I incline my head, “The pleasure is all mine, Cole. But, without your help, I don’t think we would have closed the Breach.”

      “I do not think that is true. You have a determined heart. The will to help her brother…”

      I cough, “Are you… are you talking about my brother?”

      “A young mage,” he nods.

      I laugh, “You can read minds? Maker, that’s pretty amazing Cole.”

      “I am a spirit. I wish to help the hurt, save the small.”

      I swallow, not exactly understanding his talk. But he knows of Brandon…

      Varric laughs, “Well look at that. Lake Luthias, looking almost as beautiful as a maiden.”

      I look at him, “You think lakes are as pretty as a woman?”

      “It’s a metaphor, Stumbles. You should know, you read a lot.”

      I throw my hands out in front of me, “My bad, dwarf. I’m not the writer.”

      Bull huffs, “It’s so hot boss, let’s take a break.”

      “In the lake almost as beautiful as a maiden?”

      “I wouldn’t want to swim in anything else.”

      The group have stopped, looking at me. Sera’s grinning, pleading me with her eyes. Vivienne watches the elf, lip curling and I can tell she’s wondering what we’re going to wear in the water.

      A smile spreads across my face, “Let’s go swimming!”

      And so Bull and Sera rush towards the water, stripping off their armour. Luckily they both wear tunics and pants underneath their armour, otherwise I think I might have been blinded.

 

It’s midday and the Hinterland air is hot. Scout Harding had managed to find a large blanket and a few platters of food at the Upper Lake camp we had established a few hours ago.

      Sera and Bull splash each other in the shallows of the lake. Blackwall and Dorian chat in the shallows, while washing away their filth from the trekking. Their shirtless chests glisten in the sunlight and I can’t help but get a little distracted from my book. Harding had also managed to find a few books in the camp and brought them with her.

      Cassandra and Josephine read the other tomes—though nothing as scandalous as _Swords & Shields. _

Harding, Krem and Leliana chat with their feet in the shallow waves lapping at the bank. And surprisingly Cullen and Solas are talking together, but about what, I’m not too sure. Solas does have a few wonderful stories about dream walking in the Fade. Perhaps he’s talking about that. And of course Vivienne is fusing over the meals, making sure they’re up to her standards. Definitely what my mother would do.

      I look at Varric, who sits beside me, “This was your idea, why aren’t you in the water?”

      He chuckles, “Have I ever told you I can’t swim?”

      I blink, “You can’t?”

      He shakes his head.

      “Stay in the shallows, where your feet can touch the bottom.”

      He gazes at the water, longingly.

      I grip his strong shoulder, “I’ll make sure you don’t drown. Come on.” I heave myself to my feet and, already out of my armour, make my way towards the water.

      I roll the sleeves up on my tunic, grinning.

      I turn back, but Varric is still standing by the blanket. He unbuttons his shirt and a whistle fills the air, “Varric’s getting’ undressed!” It’s Sera. “Ew, chest hair!” Then she laughs and goes back to splashing around.

      The tunic falls from Varric’s shoulders and he walks towards me, grinning, “Sorry, I’m ready now.”

      I grin, “Careful. That amount of armour isn’t very defensive. You may get attacked by a fish.”

      Varric just snorts.

      But I must admit, his arms and shoulders certainly are very nice to look at, but when the eye travels further… the muscles in his stomach certainly outmatch his arms. His abdominal muscles are toned well beyond any other dwarf’s I’ve seen. I always thought he had a beer belly under that tunic, but it seems I have been proved wrong.

      I blink, suddenly conscious of all the toned torsos around me. Varric’s, Dorian’s, Bull’s, Blackwall’s… My eyes flick to Cullen, but he’s wearing a tunic—which is almost as good. I only ever see him in his armour and it’s a nice surprise.

      My ankles touch the water and soon I’m knee deep. Varric follows more slowly, his shorter figure waddling through the water, almost up to his waist.

      “How you holding up?”

      He blinks, “Just great.”

      Though I can tell he’s a little scared. The great and mighty storyteller, rogue and friend of the Champion of Kirkwall is scared of a little water.

      I nod, “If you don’t want to go any further, it’s fine. We all have to be scared of something.”

      Varric’s eyes flick back to the bank, “I’m sure Cassandra is the only thing I’m scared of.”

      My hands go to my hips, “Then why don’t I believe you?”

      Varric’s eyebrows shoot up, “What are you talking about?”

      “I see the way you look at her. I mean, sure, you give each other glares every now and then, but you seem to have become closer in the last few weeks.”

      Varric just laughs, hands swiping through the water.                                                  

      “And she looks at you the same way. Especially now,” I add with a grin. From my position facing the bank, I can see everyone, whereas Varric has is back turned to them. And Cassandra’s face is a mixture of confusion and surprise.

      Varric scoffs, “Nice try Stumbles.”

      “Turn around. She’ll get a good view that way.”

      Varric pushes me and I stumble back, actually keeping my balance. I let out a laugh, but it’s a second too soon. My foot catches a lose pebble underwater and next thing I know, my butt hits the pebbles and I’m sitting in the blue water.

      Varric gasps out a laugh, “Stumbles, my humble Inquisitor, I’m so sorry.” But he’s too busy bending over in laughter to help me up.

      I glare up at him a swipe a leg through the water. His legs are swept out from under him and he falls to the water in a heap.

      Now it’s my turn to laugh. And laugh loudly. My stomach cramps as I try to stop my uncontrollable laughter.

      “Very funny,” says Varric.

      I get to my feet, tunic dripping wet.

      Varric holds out his hand but I just turn away, “You don’t deserve my help.”

      He lets out a laugh, “Fine.”

      Thunderous splashing gets my attention and I turn to see Bull charging towards me. A scream is the only thing I can do before I’m swept off my feet and carried away. Bull’s laughter echoes across the lake and he holds me above his head. In one strong throw, I’m launched through the air and land in the deeper part of the lake.

      I surface, spluttering and laughing. Paddling back in I hit Bull’s arm.

      “Sorry boss, it had to be done.”

       Harding and Josephine join us in the water, with Dorian and Blackwall return after washing themselves.

      Dorian slaps his hand through the water, a good splash hitting Bull in the face.

      The Qunari turns and growls, “Big mistake Tevinter.”

      And Dorian squeaks, “Oh look at the time, I’d best be getting out.”

      “Oh no you don’t.”

      In a matter of seconds a water fight erupts, and water flies everywhere. I leap towards Dorian, pulling him under—much to his distress. But with a flick of his wrist, a spurt of water hits my right in the eye. I reel back, feeling myself falling.

      But strong arms wrap around me and keep me steady. I turn to see Cullen smiling down at me… and my breath nearly rushes from my lungs. He doesn’t wear a tunic. His bare chest is glistening from my own wet tunic, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

      The only thing I manage to think of is splashing him.

      Cullen laughs, “Is that how you’re going to be?”

      I bolt away from his grasp and Sera dives towards him. Josephine laughs as water splashes around her. I’m surprised she’s in here with us. But I grin at her, “Good to see you getting your hair wet.”

      “Even I must have a break from politics at some point.”

      Krem rushes into the water, “I’ve got your back chief!”

      Harding, Sera, Josephine and I seem to have gravitated towards one another, splashing the males. And the men themselves seem to have created a team against us.

      Harding slaps her hand along the water and it hits Krem in the chest. His tunic hangs heavy against his body, “You’ll pay for that!”

      And all together, the males send a stream of water our way. We duck and scream, giggling like little girls.

      Dorian flicks his wrist and sends another wave towards us.

      I spit the lake water from my mouth and take a gasping breath, “Vivienne!” My shout echoes through the Hinterlands.

      There’s silence, waiting for the mage to send a powerful wave crashing back towards the males. But instead comes a quiet reply, “I’m not getting my hands wet, my dear.”

      My shoulder sag, “Oh come on. Do something from the banks.”

      “I’m eating.”

      Harding glances at me, but a well-aimed jet of water sends her tumbling. I hear Krem’s cackling.

      Helping Harding to her feet, I grin, “He got you good.”

      She rubs her butt, “A little too good.”

      Varric squares up to us, a wicked grin on his face. I bolt, Harding going the opposite direction. Krem chases after Harding, while Josie and Cullen and Blackwall seem to be at a standoff. But Varric barrels towards me and I rush towards the shallows of the lake.

      And Cassandra steps in front of me.

      I scream and twirl, managing to miss her attack. But Varric isn’t as lucky. The water slaps him in the chest but he doesn’t stop in time.

      Cassandra tries to step out of the way, but instead Varric smacks into her, sending them tumbling through the shallow water.

      Varric, somewhere ending up in the water, lies on his back, while Cassandra is resting on top of him. They’re eyes are wide, faces frozen. And the lake turns silent. Everyone watches them.

      But I can’t contain myself.

      A burst of laughter explodes from my throat and I can’t control myself as I fall to the ground, cackling like a deranged person. I take a deep breath and look at the couple, who are too shocked to move.

      Then Cassandra pushes herself off Varric, running a hand through her hair, “Watch where you’re going next time.” Her voice wavers slightly.

      I stand, still trying to hold in the rest of my laugh. The Seeker comes to stand by my side, holding me up as I contain my laugh.

      Varric still lies in the lake, “I’ll remember that next time, Seeker.”

      Bull hauls the dwarf to his feet a small grin on his face and I see Dorian’s moustache twitch at me, a glint in his eyes. Everyone seems to stand in front of me, waiting to make the next move. I swallow, not sure what to do in this awkward situation.

      The water ripples and moves, just behind the rest of the group. Who are oblivious to the liquid as it becomes to take form. Even Varric doesn’t see it.

      But the water begins to towering above us like a giant wave in Grandma’s stories.

      But Cassandra sees it and her face falls, “Maker…”

      Everyone turns as the wave breaks, crashing over us.

      “Shit!” comes Sera’s curse, before she’s swallowed by the wave.

      I’m knocked from my feet and swirl through the water, struggling to find which way’s up. My back scraps against the pebbles and I twirl through the water.

      But just as quickly as the wave was built, it disappears.

      I cough, Cassandra beside me, wet and gasping for air. Her body shudders and she looks at me.

      “By Andraste’s tits, what was that?” yells Varric, his hair a mess.

      “You’re welcome my dears,” says Vivienne from the banks. The other three on the bank seem just as surprised as us. Solas is staring at the lake in shock, while Leliana is trying not to smile. Even Cole seems too scared to go near Vivienne now.

      But the Enchanter just shrugs, “I win. Now come at get something to eat. I won’t have you walking back to Skyhold hungry.”

      Cassandra helps me up and I look at Josephine, whose face is utter shock.

      I can’t help but laugh, “You look wonderful.”

      She grumbles something about never going swimming again.

      Cullen even looks at Vivienne in fear, his blonde hair messy and dripping wet.

      Sera scurries towards the banks, hair plastered to her head. She coughs, “Who’s a bitch?” Her hand covers her mouth as she coughs again, trying to hide her remark.

      “Charming darling,” says Vivienne.

      “Fact.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mumma Vivienne is the best Vivienne. I have a slight headcanon where she actually has a heart (ooohh burn) and that she can by quite caring when she wants to. That lovely Sera remark is actually a party banter and I just had to add it in there! But I hope you enjoyed the chapter. You never really see the whole group bonding, so I thought I’d add it in there for you all. And still a few more chapters before I advance the story/ main quests, as I want to take a break from it. I love writing these moments, they can be so much fun. Next chapter will contain a lot of Cullen/ Lydia moments with the Before the Dawn quest, so get keen for that and stay groovy.


	29. Chapter 28

After our day in the Hinterlands together, I feel as though we’ve become much closer as a team, as a unit, as an Inquisition.

      Bull had decided that night that every week we would sit down at the tavern and play a game of Wicked Grace—or any other tavern game that we think of. I may not be the best of players, but I have won a few games against my friends.

      One morning a week after our water fight, Cullen calls me to his new office. I walk the battlements, steeling my nerves with the cool breeze from the mountains around us.

      Stopping outside his door, I take a few breaths and then push the door open. His office, now furnished is quaint and small. An oak desk sits at one end of the room whole a bookcase is pushed against the other wall, filled with books. Candles have been placed around the room, sending flickering light across the walls. A ladder leads upwards, I’m guessing to his bed. But I notice the ceiling has a hole in it, one piece of wood covering it—which really doesn’t do much.

      “I know, it needs to be fixed. But I haven’t had time. What with the meetings and you running around closing Rifts and helping people… there just hasn’t been many resources.”

      I swallow, “I’ll get someone onto it straight away.”

      He smiles, “That’s very kind of you but… it’s fine, I really don’t mind. It’s nice looking at the stars at night.”

      I smile, “That would be beautiful.”

      Cullen looks away and clears his throat, filing away his papers, “I… ah, didn’t call you hear to discuss the hole in my roof.”

      “Right,” I say, straightening.

      “I’ve been doing some research and I found where to red Templars came from. Therinfall Redoubt. The knights were fed red Lyrium until they turned into monsters. Samson took over after their corruption was complete.” He spits Samson’s name.

      “How do you know Samson?”

      Cullen seems restless, pacing back and forth. He looks at me, “He was a Templar in Kirkwall, until he was expelled from the Order. We… we used to share quarters. He seemed a decent man, at first. I knew he was an addict, but this… red Lyrium is nothing like that Lyrium given by the Chantry. It’s power comes with a terrible madness.”

      I nod, “Like the future we saw at Redcliffe. And the red Templars swarming Haven were proof enough.”

      He nods, “We cannot allow them to gain strength. The red Templars till require Lyrium. If we find their source, we can weaken them _and_ their leader.”

      I swallow, seeing him clench his fists, “Are you angrier at Corypheus or Samson?”

      “I don’t know. Samson, at least, should know better. Caravans of red Lyrium are being smuggled along trade roads. Investigating them could lead to where it’s being mined. If you confront them, be wary. Anything connected to Samson will be well guarded.”

       

+++

 

Cassandra brings her shield up just as the giant’s fist smashes into her. I hear a crack and the shield breaks into two.

      The giant stumbles away, its own weight making it nearly fall.

      Pulling Cassandra away, I hear her fighting for breath. A blow like that certainly would have done some damage.

      Sera lets lose a volley of arrows, hitting the giant in the eye. It thunders around, moaning in pain and unbalanced and blind.

      A red Templar, hardly conscious, lifts his head but the giant crushes him under foot with a sickening crack.

      I try to keep my nerves in check as I pull Cassandra to safety. A gash on her arm seems to be the only injury, but I’m no healer.

      “Dorian!” I plead.

      He nods and sends a white hot flame towards the giant. It writhes in pain as the fire consumes its body, but still it doesn’t die.

      I growl and rush towards it, blades in hand. I cut its ankle, sending it to the ground, grasping at its body still alight in flames.

      I spin and thrust the blade into its neck and with a final roar the giant grows limp.

      Sera sneers, “I hate those.”

      Cassandra picks up the two pieces of her broken shield, “For once, I agree with you.”

      “Your arm, Cassandra,” I say.

      She shrugs my worry off, “It is only a cut, Lydia. I’ve suffered worse.”

      Dorian looks around, “At least the giant did most of the work for us.”

      The red Templars guarding the last of Samson’s caravans are sprawled around the green clearing. When we had arrived, a giant came rumbling towards the red Templars. It had killed them easily enough, but then wouldn’t leave the caravan. So we had to take matters into our own hands.

      I walk over to the small wooden cart and sure enough, sitting in amongst the barrels is a piece of paper, with a messy script scribbled onto it.

      “So, we know the red Lyrium isn’t coming from the Deep Roads. And the other letter just had more ramblings about the smugglers and Samson.”

      “Hopefully Cullen can piece together all three notes,” says Cassandra.

      I scan the last note, “There’s names on here, with a mention of Samson.”

      “We best take these back to your Commander,” says Dorian.

      I look up, “My Commander?”

      He just smiles at me.

      Cassandra stares at us, “We… must get back to Skyhold to show Cullen our findings.”

 

+++

 

After going with Cassandra to the blacksmith and she’s happy with the shield she’s picked, I head to Cullen’s office, yet again butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach.

      Cullen scans through the papers one last time, “The smugglers we interrogated gave up the red Templars’ main square of red Lyrium, Inquisitor. It’s located in the Sale, near a town called Sahrnia. Destroying the mine there will cripple Samson’s operations.”

      I nod, “Excellent work, Commander. I’ll investigate the mine.”

      “Destroying the red Templars’ source of Lyrium will be a loss Samson won’t soon forget.”

      “I’ll take my leave,” I say, turning.

      “Lydia?”

      I glance back at him, “Yes, Commander?”

      “Thank you for doing this. You’ve put not only yourself, but your companions in danger to help with this mission. You could just as easily have left me to deal with Samson.”

      “I’d never leave you to deal with this alone, Cullen. I’m happy to help, as are my companions.”

      His eyes stay on mine for a few seconds before he turns away, clearing his throat, “I’d best be letting you go. Varric’s probably waiting for you at the tavern.”

      I laugh, “Oh don’t worry, Bull’s there to keep him company. You should join us, they’ll be drunk before supper.”

      Cullen laughs, a hand brushing through his blonde hair, soft curly blonde hair… He shakes his head, “I’d best not. Reports don’t write themselves.”

      I feel my shoulders sag, “Oh, that’s fine… I guess being Commander means a lot of reports. I’ll um… I’ve actually got some reports myself.” I turn again and head for the door.

      “Ah… Inquisitor, maybe when I’ve got some free time, we could, ah, grab a drink together.”

      I push the door open and pause, “I’d love that Cullen.”

     

+++

 

Emprise du Lion is cold, snowy, icy and windy. Those things do not bode well for me.

      I can feel my nose running, my fingers are frozen to the hilts of my blades—even with gloves on and my eyes water. The warm scarf around my neck only seems to keep my neck warm. And my armour doesn’t seem to do me any good—the wind just blows right through the metal and my tunic underneath, like icy daggers.

      Cassandra’s fleeced armour seems to keep her quite warm, while Varric is struggling with the loss of his open chested tunic. Now he’s cooped up in a fleeced armoured jacket. Vivienne scoffs at the snowflake landing on her woolen sleeve and with a flick of her fingers, the snowflake dissipates.

      Harding grins at me, “Your Worship, it’s great to see you.”                                      

      “And you, Harding. Glad to see you in one piece after our trip to the Hinterlands.”

      Her cheeks brighten, “Krem wasn’t too harsh on me. I did splash him back pretty good though.” She clears her throat, “But enough about that. We’re on the outskirts of Sahrnia. This is what’s left of the town. The lucky ones got out before the river froze over. The rest got pinned in by Fade Rifts and Red Templars. We’re the first friendly face they’ve seen in a long, long while. The local stone quarry is where you’d want to head to find the red Templars. A lot of workers went missing when they moved in.”

      “We’ll head there now.”

      Harding nods and gives me a smile, “Go get them.”

      Trekking through the snowy plains is even worse when Vivienne is with us, “My dear, you’ve got a snowflake on your shoulder. It will drip soon.”

      I roll my eyes, “It’s fine, Vivienne. I’m sure my armour will live.”

      “Oh, but it may not. That isn’t the best metal work.”

      Voices fill the air and I wave a hand at Vivienne to silence her.

      “And another one. It’s on your scarf.”

      “Shh,” I hiss. And sure enough as I peek around the corner, I spy a large mine. Wooden scaffolding has been built everywhere, balconies covered in snow and barrels full of stone. And the red gloom of Lyrium is certainly visibly.

      And red Templars patrolling the mine are a giveaway.

      “Yep. This is the place,” says Varric.

      Cassandra slides her sword from her sheath, “Plan?”

      “Vivienne, forget snowflakes. I need enough power to freeze them. Varric, you’ll stay here, picking them off as they run at us. Cassandra, only attack when Vivienne has frozen them. The already cold air will make them brittle, and they’ll shatter.”

      “Charming,” says Vivienne. “But, I’ll do as you please.”

      Cassandra nods.

      With a signal, Cassandra and I bolt from our spots and Varric starts firing. Red Templars fall around us and some freeze on the spot. I smash the flat of my blade into the Templar and he shatters into pieces. More Templars file from the mine, swords and shields at the ready. Cassandra blocks a flying arrow and slams her sword into a frozen Templar.

      But soon, the Templars begin to overrun us.

      A stray fist hits me in the face and I reel back in pain.

      Thrusting my hand in the air, I try to remember how I did it. Back in the cave after Haven’s destruction… I had created a Rift. And it pulled those demons into it. I push Cassandra behind me and with a thought, my anchor lights up, sending a green glow through the white snow. And a tendril of green light shoots from my hand, the end expanding into a portal. It swirls in the air and the Templars pressing towards us jerk. Then they are lifted into the air, and sucked into the Rift. Screams fill the air as they’re sucked in and as the last Templar is pulled, I clench my fist.

      The Rift closes and disappears.

      “Well… Andraste’s balls and tits, Lydia. Where did you learn to do that?” yells Varric.

      I swallow, feeling slightly dizzy, “When… when Corypheus tried to take back his mark, he made it stronger… and next thing I know, I had this power.”

      Vivienne blinks, “No magic can do that.”

      Cassandra’s hand wraps around my arm, “Are you hurt? Tired?”

      “No, I feel… I feel…” the dizziness is worse, taking hold of my mind. My vision blurs and I feel like vomiting. Cassandra pulls me to a wooden crate and sits me down.

      “Water skin,” she snaps. Varric fishes one out of his pack and hands it to her. The Seeker puts it to my mouth and I drink gratefully.

      “Using that type of power will have an effect on your body,” she says. “You may be able to close Rifts with no problem, but opening them certainly puts a strain on you.”

      I nod, the dizziness fading.

      The Seeker smiles at me, “But you’ll be fine.”

      “Thank you,” I croak.

      Vivienne nods, “I do believe that kind of magic will always be a strain on your body.”

      Varric glances around, his eyes settling on a barrel, papers lying on top of it. A sword stops them from blowing away.

      He picks them up and placed them in my hands. Scanning through the writing I look up, “It’s a letter, from Samson himself.”

      “Let’s look around, there might be more where that came from.”

      I stand and we search through the mine, looking for anything importance.

      Cassandra holds up her hand, a paper in it, “It’s a note from Samson.” She quickly glances at the paper, “About spreading red Lyrium.”

      After searching through the mine for another five minutes, we don’t find anything else.

      “I guess those will have to do,” says Vivienne.

      But something catches my eye and I turn. The body of a Templar lies in the snow, a bolt through his throat. Jutting out of his pocket is a piece of parchment. It may be nothing, but I check anyway.

      It’s another letter from Samson, with new orders written on the top. I turn to my three companions, “We should inform Cullen that we’ve taken care of Samson’s red Lyrium hoard.”

     

+++

 

I cough, glad that we’re finally away from the harsh coldness of the snowy plains. The warmer parts of Skyhold certainly welcome me. Pushing the door open, Cullen glances up from his desk and smiles at me.

      “I’ve been reading the letters found in the quarry. Samson is making red Lyrium from people?”

      I swallow, “I read them too. But… not anymore, not in that mine.”

      “I knew Samson had fallen, but this? It’s monstrous. We have to put an end to him. Look at these orders from the encampment. That armour must give Samson extraordinary power.”

      I nod, remembering the note. Samson had wanted red Lyrium to modify his armour. And something about taking over as The Vessel. The armour had made him want to tear his own skin off… so he wants it to be better now.

      “We may not be able to stop him,” Cullen’s voice is quiet.

      “Take away his armour and the Lyrium, and Samson’s just another man,” I say.

      “I couldn’t say how. Templars are trained _not_ to destroy expensive magical equipment. Perhaps Dagna has some ideas. She crafts the impossible every day.”

      I blink. Dagna had arrived in Skyhold a few days ago. I’ve spoken to her a few times, but she tends to stay in the Undercroft, helping Harrit.

 

I take the stairs two at a time and enter the reach. Slowly, it’s being transformed. The mess has been cleaned up and a throne has been placed at the other end of the hall—for my use apparently. Though I’ve never sat on the throne, the leather seat, with a jeweled back rest and spikes protruding from it seems strangely comfortable. The glass stained window behind the throne has been fixed and depicts the Breach, a green swirl in the grey sky. Cassandra had argued that Andraste should be painted on the windows, but everyone thought the Breach was something unique to Skyhold—as the Inquisition has taken the fortress as its own. Scaffolding is placed up against the walls, so builders can work on fixing the chandeliers and the holes in the stone work. A small fire place has been set up in the corner, where Varric sits now.

      He looks up from his pile of papers, “Stumbles. You’re just the person I want to see.”

      I wave him to walk with me.

      He scurries over, papers under his arm, “I’ve nearly finished the manuscript.”

      I blink, “ _Swords & Shields_?”

      He nods, “I’ve got maybe two pages left.”

      I grin, “Then I’ll give it to Cassandra when you’ve finished.”

      He glares at me, “With me there.”

      “Ah yes, I forget that.”

      “How’s Curly?”

      “Still worrying about Samson. But we’re getting to the bottom of it, one way or another.”

      He nods, “Good to see you’re helping him.”

      “I am the Inquisitor. People like me helping them.”

      Pushing the door open to the Undercroft, we’re hit with warm air. Harrit is at work, crafting a metal of some kind.

      Dagna looks up from her work, “Flower motif, I think.” Then she blinks, “Inquisitor. It’s you.”

      “It is.”

      “And Varric.”

      “Good to meet you,” he says, bowing his head.

      “Dagna? What have you learned of Samson?” It may be a little early to ask her, as she’s only had a few hours to work on it. But she’s the best at what she does, so hopefully she has some answers.

      The dwarf wrings her fingers, “He should be dead… I mean, you could make a hat out of red Lyrium and kill people, especially the wearer. Samson’s armour, it’s genius. To do all this and not go insane, it must be resistant. Or he _is_ insane. Or both!”

      I laugh, “Alright, but you’re not comforting me. He’s dangerous either way.”

      “Oh, fine. I just need time. And tools. People. And red Lyrium. For tests, you see?”

      “Is that wise?”

      “I don’t want red Lyrium to get out of hand in Skyhold,” says Varric with a shiver.

      “Everything is safe in handled properly. And you don’t touch it long. Or breathe it. I mentioned the hat, right. No hat.” She takes breath, “Time and resources, Inquisitor. I’ll get what you want. Now shoo! I’ve work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I opted for short scenes in this chapter—just experimenting with the pace/ length of each scene. Plus having to write them fighting every two seconds can get a little boring after a while and I run out of words to use instead of ‘and I killed the Templar’.


	30. Chapter 29

Finally, a few days after games of Wicked Grace, Dagna finally sends word of her research—and she seems very excited about it.

      Cullen nods at me, “No red Lyrium, no allies and soon Samson will have no armour. I hope.”

      I swallow, “You hope?”

      “Dagna’s started work on her red Lyrium samples, but she needs more details on the armour. We found orders in the mine. They mentioned Maddox. A name I did not expect to hear.”

      “Samson’s letter said something about ‘taking over as The Vessel.”

      Cullen leans over the table, “Perhaps it’s a rank among the red Templars. It could be a title from Ancient Tevinter. Oh… it’s some other role Corypheus has planned for Samson, and Maddox is part of it.”

      “Another voice from your past?”

      “In a way. This is complicated. Maddox was a mage in Kirkwall’s circle. Samson smuggled letters between him and his sweetheart. Eventually Samson was caught—that’s why he was cast out of the Order. Maddox was made Tranquil and became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson must have… rescued him.”

      “Perhaps there’s something left of the man Samson used to be,” I say. “Taking in a Tranquil was… kind.”

      Cullen scowls, “Or he’s shrew enough to know an extraordinary resource. It seems Maddox built Samson’s armour for him and maintains it still. Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments—supplies we can trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Inquisitor. Samson’s armour might lead us right to his stronghold.”

     

+++

We prepare for battle, Cullen’s soldiers standing ready at the gates of Skyhold.

      “We have him, Inquisitor. We found Samson’s lair. My duties usually keep me here, but for Samson? I’ll make an exception.”

       “You’re… you’re coming with us?” I clear my throat, “Samson still has that red Lyrium armour.”

      “All the more reason for me to go. I would… sleep better if I knew I would be at your side.”

      A cough escapes my throat, “That’s very kind of you.”

      “We’ll depart at your leave,” he says quickly.

      Cassandra, Varric and Dorian stand ready, weapons and weapons sharpened and polished. A new swirl of nerves race through my veins. Cullen’s coming with us… I better not screw up.

      What am I thinking? Showing off will win his affections? I’m not 12. I’ll just… act normal. Act like an Inquisitor should. And maybe get him to look my way with a few moves…

 

“This is it,” says Cullen. “The heart of Samson’s command.”

      “I don’t see him anywhere. Or hear him,” I say.

      “Nor I. Maker, tell me he hasn’t fled.”

      We stand at the gates of a destroyed fortress—The Shrine of Dumat. It’s smaller then Skyhold, but certainly formidable in its prime days. A small fire burns, flames licking at the wooden planks placed haphazardly to the side of us. The bridge is a cluttered mess, various red tents and crumbled pillars litter the path. The reach in front of us has torn flags flapping pathetically in the wind.

      As we continue across, ash clings to the air, setting my nerves on edge. Every time I see a piece float from the corner of my eye, I think it’s a red Templar.

      The bridge is deserted and as we climb the steps to enter the reach I take a breath to calm my nerves.

      Inside is a giant foyer, banners of the red Templars hanging from the ceiling. The floor is dirty, fire burning in their braziers.

      “The place is already half destroyed,” I say.

      “Samson must have ordered his Templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn’t,” says Cullen.

      “Sorry Curly,” says Varric. “Someone tipped off Samson you were coming.”

      “I think you’re right. Still, we’ve dealt Samson a blow.”

      As we check the rooms, I notice red Lyrium spires growing out of the walls and floor. But there’s nothing here apart from ruin and rubble.

      Then we enter a room, fires burning all over the walls and floor. Giant spires of red Lyrium grow, bigger than anything I’ve seen—even in the future at Redcliffe, nothing was as big as the centerpiece of the room. Jagged spikes of red Lyrium poke up out of the floor, like a statue and it turns the whole room red.

      Dodging the fires, none of us say a word. It’s too much to take in.

      Reaching a wooden door, untouched by the destruction, Cullen glances at me before pushing it open. 

      The room ahead is dark, more red Lyrium pulsing on the walls and through the floors. The whole room is a red gloom and goose bumps travel up my arms. Something isn’t right about this place. Templar tapestries hang from the walls, a sword in flames on a red background.

      And sitting up against the back wall is a man, staff leaned up against the wall. He sits with his hands tucked into his lap and his legs crossed. His shaved head is spiky and there’s something on his forehead—it’s a sun. Cassandra glances at me, a weary hand on her hilt.

      “Hello Inquisitor,” he says as we walk up to him.

      “You know me?” I ask.

      Cullen bends down to the man, “It’s Maddox. Samson’s Tranquil.” He looks up at me, “Something’s wrong. I’ll send doe the healers.”

      “That would be a waste. Knight-Captain Cullen. I drunk my entire supply of Blightcap Essence. It won’t be long now.”

      “We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox” I say.

      “Yes, that is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

      “You threw your lives away? For Samson? Why?” asks Cullen.

      “Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again. I… wanted to help…” His word fade and his head drops to his chest, eyes closing over.

      I send a prayer to the Maker.

      Cullen bows his head and stands, “We should check the camp. Maddox may have missed something.”

      I nod glancing around the room. I don’t want to be here any longer then we have to—and by Varric’s face, he doesn’t want to either.

      “What a dismal place to die,” mutters Cullen. “It can’t have been much of a place to live, either, under Samson’s command.”

      “We can’t leave Maddox here, he should be laid to rest,” I say.

      Cullen nods, “I’ll have someone take care of it. If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less.”

      As we spread out, I keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. But the red Lyrium seems to be the only thing here.

      Something catches my eye and I turn to find empty bottles.

      Cullen stands beside me, “Lyrium bottles. Licked clean.”

      “Drinking it, wearing it, growing it—you can’t say Samson isn’t committed,” says Varric.

      “How much red Lyrium is Samson taking? His resistance must be extraordinary.”

      In the middle of the room is a table I failed to notice before. Letters and quills are scattered all over the ground, ripped and burnt. Only one piece of parchment sits on the table top, familiar script written on it.

      Cullen picks up the letter, “Samson left a message. For me.”

      “What does it say?”

      “ _Drink enough Lyrium, and its song reveals the truth. The Chantry used us. You’re fighting the wrong battle. Corypheus chose me as his General. And his Vessel of power._ And other such nonsense. Does he think I’ll understand? What does he know?”

      Searching the other rooms, I find a set of tools, sitting on a table, “This must have been Maddox’s room.”

      “The fire couldn’t destroy these entirely. Whatever they are,” says Cullen.

      “Those are Lyrium forging implements,” nods Dorian. “Of remarkable design. Intact, they’d be worth a fortune.”

      “Tranquil often design their own tools. Dagna should be able to make sense of them. Maddox used these to make Samson’s armour, she could use them to unmake it. We have him…”

     

+++

 

Heading straight to Cullen’s office, I actually feel a sense of pride. We’ve figured out a way to stop Samson—if Dagna can make sense of the tools we found, we’ll have an upper hand in the fight.

      Cullen looks up, a smile creeping along his lips when he sees me. He clears his throat, “The red Lyrium deposits are being destroyed, and we’ve cut the red Templars down to the core. It’s a pity Maddox thought his sacrifice was the only answer. But that leaves Samson with a severely curtailed army and enchanted armour he can’t maintain. You did it.”

      “We both fought to make this happen. Don’t sell yourself short,” I say.

      “Well I… thank you,” he bobs his head. “But my work’s not done yet. We’re getting recruits by the hour. There’s more than a few ex-Templars among them. We’ve struck a blow and given people hope. This is a true victory.”

      I smile, “Maybe a few victory drinks are in order?”

      “I’d like that, Lydia.”

      He smiles at me, his mouth opening to say something.

      But the doors are pushed open and Dagna scurries in, “Inquisitor! I finished it!”

      I spin, facing the dwarf.

      “Are you talking? Sorry. Have it anyhow.” She places a rune in my hand, glowing red.

      I look at it, “You mean this rune?”

      “It’s not just any rune. I made it with the red Lyrium and what’s left of poor Maddox’s tools. The rune acts on the median fissures of Lyrium to— It’ll destroy Samson’s armour. He’ll be powerless.”

      “And leave Corypheus without a general.” I laugh, “We should render out enemies powerless at a stroke more often.”

      “Maddox covered Samson’s tracks thoroughly, but wherever Samson’s retreated, we’ll find him. Our army stands ready, Inquisitor. For Samson, for Corypheus, for whatever you command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short fluffy chapter for you all. As always, I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will be Wintersend—a Thedas holiday kind of like Christmas. Because you know, they all need a little holiday every now and then!


	31. Chapter 30

A nice afternoon breeze blows through the Skyhold battlements and I breathe in the fresh air. It’s nice to finally have a break for once. Every day since coming to Skyhold, there’s been something we’d have to do or somewhere we’d have to be. And frankly, I’m tired. I just need a break. And today—as well as tomorrow seem like the perfect idea.

      According to Josephine, Wintersend is tomorrow. That means I’ve got to get gifts for everyone. I’ve gotten Cassandra a new set of armour—better than the old piece of metal she wears now. Varric’s new bolts are ready for me to pick up soon while Dorian’s set of books are already wrapped. But I’m yet to find everyone something. But I’m sure I’ll make it in time. And Cullen… well, I’m still wondering if I should actually give him a gift. I don’t want to seem too keen…

      So as I walk around Skyhold, gathering said gifts, I come to the gardens, hoping to find some herbs for Solas to use.

      Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dorian, playing chess with someone. When I round the corner, I see Cullen, elbows resting on his knees as he concentrates on the game in front of him. The game board is old, the wooden pieces cracked an ancient.

      “Gloat all you like. I have this one,” says Cullen.

      “Are you _sassing_ me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you,” says Dorian.

      “Why do I even bother,” the Commander mutters, making a move. His eyes flick up to me and he stands quickly, hands bracing the arm rests of his chair, “Inquisitor.”

      Dorian stays in his seat, “Leaving are you? Does this mean I win?”

      Cullen returns to his sit.

      I wave a hand at the board, “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

      “Alright,” says Cullen, sitting at the edge of his seat. “Your move.”

      Dorian sits forward, “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better.” He makes his move.

      “Really?” asks Cullen. He moves his king. “Because I just won. And I feel fine.” He leans back a knowing smile on his face.

      Dorian holds his hands up, “Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you.” He stands from his seat and smiles at me.

      “I should return to my duties as well…” begins Cullen. “Unless you would care for a game?” He’s looking at me and I blink.

      Clearing my throat, I try to form words, but with his gaze on me, it’s a little hard. “Prepare the board, Commander.” It’s more an order than anything, but I take a seat.

      “As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won—which was all the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won… Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.” He moves a pawn.

      “You have siblings?” I ask.

      “Two sisters and a brother.”

      “Where are they now?” I ask, moving one of my own pieces.

      “They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I don not write to them as often as I should. Ah, my turn.” He moves another piece. “And you? Two brothers, if I remember correctly.”

      I smile, “Yeah. Two annoying brothers.”

      Cullen laughs, “I can only imagine.”

      “I remember we used to play Mages and Templars around the castle,” I smile at the memories. “I was always the mage, hiding from the Templars.”

      “Did they ever find you?”

      “No. I could always hide in spots nobody could find. Once I had the whole castle looking for me. I had… fallen asleep.”

      Cullen laughs, “Asleep?”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      Cullen smiles at me then coughs, “Ah… yes, it’s your turn.”

      Grinning, I move a piece, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

      I stare at the board, most of our pieces still in play. I don’t know how long it’s been since we started, but we’ve talked most of the game. It’s nice to finally talk to Cullen in private. I pick up a piece, moving it forward.

      “This may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition—or related matters,” says Cullen. “And to be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

      I look at him, “We should… spend more time together.” The words feel strange on my tongue and I regret them instantly. I feel the heat of a blush creeping up my cheeks.

      But Cullen smiles, “I would like that.”

      I swallow, “Me too.”

      “You said that,” his voice is soft. “We should… finish our game. Right. My turn?”

      I nod, having no clue what else to say. So silence wraps around us, the chess pieces the sole purpose of our concentration.

      But soon, I make the final move and Cullen sits back in his chair, “I believe this one is yours. Well played. We shall have to try again sometime.”

      I grin, “All those games didn’t pay off, Commander. I’m just too good.”

      “Indeed. Next time.” He looks at me, chocolaty eyes shining in the setting light, “Are you ready for Wintersend tomorrow?”

      I blink and stands from my chair, “Shit! No! Thanks for the reminder!” I sprint from the table and reach the door. But I pause, cursing myself.

      Running back, Cullen sits in the same chair, seemingly stunned. He looks at me.

      “Thank you for the game Cullen, I really enjoyed it.” And then I run back to the door, pushing it open in hopes of reaching the merchant in time.

 

+++

 

Snow settles softly on the white ground, the whole courtyard caked in the snow from last night’s fall.

      Wintersend.

      Despite the cold, everyone’s cheerful and happy, chatting amongst themselves. It’s nice to watch the Inquisition get a day off. Although it’s early afternoon already, I’ve enjoyed the relaxing day off. A day made to celebrate the Maker, but I’ll be happy just to celebrate how far we’ve come as the Inquisition.

      Josephine comes to stands next to me, watching the crowd, “Everyone is ready if you wish to join us.” Josie had decided to organize a little gathering for us, along with a feast after.

      And so I follow her back into the reach, to find my inner circle huddled around the hearth. I settle on some cushions next to Cassandra.

      Surprisingly, she’s out of her armour and wearing a leather doublet and pants. She smiles at me.

      Josephine claps her hands together, “Shall we begin?”

      All of our eyes flick to the pile of wrapped gifts at the base of the fireplace.

      “Hurry up!” yells Sera.

      Josie coughs and begins to hand out the gifts. Of course, Iron Bull orders a round of drinks, which the Chargers think is a great idea.

      Soon, everyone is either occupied by opening presents or drinking and a sense of calm sweeps over the group. After everything we’ve been through, it’s great just to relax.

      I watch as Cullen is handed a gift and he looks at the tag tied to it. His eyes flick to me and I grin, nodding at him to continue opening the gift.

      I hope he likes it.

      Slowly, he unties the strong holding the paper and his pulls away the wrap. A checkered wooden board is held in his hands. Pulling out one of the draws, wooden pieces roll around and Cullen picks one up. It’s a mounted knight, “A chess board?”

      I shrug, “The other one seemed well past its prime.”

      He smiles at me and it makes me dizzy. He carefully places the board down, “Thank you Inquisitor. This means a lot… we shall have to play another time.”

      Smiling back at him, I open my mouth, but Sera slams a hand over my lips and shoves a present into my hands. A pair of socks dangle from my hands. Looking at Sera, I smile, “Are these yours?”

      She tilts her head, lopsided fringe, swaying, “Maybe.”

      “Thank you, Sera. I’ll be sure to wear these. Especially to Emprise Du Lion.”

      She grins, “You should see what I got Cassandra.”

      Cassandra beside me glares at Sera then to the gift in her hand. She tears the already ripped paper away, revealing a cup—from the kitchens.

      “It’s empty,” says Cassandra.

      “But when you have your cycles, you can put stuff in it, yeah?” says Sera. “Lemon or honey or whatever.”

      Cassandra places the cup next to the new shield I gave her, “I’ll keep this on my desk and use it when need be.”

      “Your lemon tea will fit in there.”

      “It will fit in my cup… yes,” nods Cassandra.

      We chat amongst ourselves for an hour, as the feast is set up. Josephine is up and away, making sure the meal is up to her standards and that everything is where it should be. I see Leliana watching the ambassador, her eyes sad. She just wants to celebrate Wintersend with her friend.

      And so, with gifts opened and chatting finished, we head over to the long wooden tables set up for us.

      Platters of roast pig, salads, chicken and various fruits are laid before us and we dig in. I haven’t eaten all day—I’ve been saving my appetite for this. Josie certainly didn’t leave anything out. But I’m glad she’s settled down now, sitting at the head of the table, Leliana chatting excitedly to her.

      Krem and Harding sit together, chatting quietly together and I can’t help but smile.

      Cassandra and I watch Varric and Bull from across the table, ripping into chicken legs. They chins drip with grease. An eating contest if I’ve heard right. And Iron Bull is winning.

      “Ugh. Men,” mutters Cassandra.

      Bull flicks his gaze towards us, “What?” A piece of chicken falls from his mouth and lands in his drink.

      But he doesn’t seem to notice as he takes a big gulp of his beer and continues eating. Even Varric stares at him.

      Soon, our mains are finished and desserts are quickly placed on the table. My mouth waters at all the selections—I could try everything on this table and probably still be hungry.

      It’s only as I reach over, that I notice Varric’s eyes flicking from Cassandra to his plate. He’s thinking about something. He seems almost _nervous_. I blink, no, that can’t be right. Varric is never nervous.

      I flick out my foot, tapping his shin. He looks at me, startled and I give him a questioning look. But he just grins, taking a bite of some cake and tilts his head towards Cassandra, who’s too busy talking to Vivienne to notice us. Then Varric makes a writing gesture with his hands and I nearly spit out my own cake.

      He’s finished the book. I glance at Cassandra then back to Varric and he grins at me again, steeling his nerves.

      Soon, the others begin to shuffle off, either to the tavern or to the courtyard, the sun beginning to set.

      But Cassandra stays, seemingly waiting for me to move. But I’m still gorging down chocolate cake. Cullen stands, stretching his back and gives me a smile.

      I incline my head to him, not wanting to smile with cake stuck in my teeth.

      The candles flicker, shadows casted along the stone walls. I must say, this has been a pretty successful day.

      After dessert, I stand and Cassandra follows. Varric waits for me to join him and the three of us walk from the reach. Now would be a perfect time.

      I nudge the dwarf.

      He glances at me and clears his throat, “Cassandra?” We stop walking, the courtyard light up with torch scones. It’s the first time I’ve heard him use her name before.

      The warrior looks over at him, “What have you done now?”

      Varric lets out a laugh and glances at me. I urge him on. Clearing his throat, Varric finds his words, “I have a gift for you, Seeker.”

      Cassandra’s eyebrows shoot up, “You what?”

      “The next chapter of _Swords & Shields_,” he pulls a tome from behind his back. The cover shows a woman, clad in heavy army and long orange hair. “I hear you’re a fan.”

      Cassandra glares at me, “This is your doing.”

      I let out a laugh, “Did you really think I’d miss this?”

      “Well,” says Varric. “If you’re not interested, still needs editing, anyhow. Come on Stumbles, let’s head to the tavern. Bull’s waiting for us.”

      “Wait!” says Cassandra, catching Varric by the arm. The two of them glance at her hand and she pulls away quickly. Her cheeks are rosy and I have to hide a snort.

      Varric’s the first one to say something, “You’re probably wondering what happens to the Knight-Captain after the last chapter.”

      Cassandra gasps, her “Nothing should happen to her. She was falsely accused!”

      “I don’t want to know what for,” I say with a grin.

      “Well, it turns out the Guardsman—”

      “Don’t tell me!” yells Cassandra, plucking the book from his hands. She cradles it gently, as if a child.

      Varric nods, “This is the part where you thank the Inquisitor. I don’t normally give sneak peeks, after all.”

      Cassandra doesn’t want to look at me. She stares at the book, almost embarrassed. But then her eyes lift to me, “I… thank you.” She smiles.

      “Thank Varric, he’s the one that wrote the book,” I say with a smile. “I just _ordered_ him to do it.”

      Varric coughs, “Yep.”

      She looks at the book again, “I wonder if I have time to read the first part…” She looks up again.

      “Go ahead, we’ll be in the tavern.”

      She glances at the book again, “No. I want to… be with you. It is Wintersend, is it not? A time to celebrate the Maker and to celebrate friends. I will read it after.”

      I grin, “You’re coming to the tavern?”

      “I will… have a few drinks with you.”

      Varric mocks being shocked, “Seeker… the Inquisitor has changed you.”

      A small smile comes to her lips, “She is my friend. What type of friend would _I_ be if I didn’t drink with her?”

      Grabbing Cass by the arm, I lead her to the tavern, “You heard the Lady, let’s go!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!! I thought a nice fun chapter was in order!


	32. Chapter 31

My head lies on something soft, and something heavy is lying on top of me. Maker, it’s too early. My head is pounding and my arms feel as heavy as lead. With a groan, my eyes open and I’m looking at a butt. Clothed, but still a butt—one that I’ve been lying on. I jerk, and Scout Harding wakes with a start, her butt now gone from my face.

      The thing on top of me jolts upright and I see Cassandra, hair messed, eyes wide. Sera is on the ground beside us, arms and legs spread wide, face down. But she’s only in her small clothes—which don’t hide too much anyway. Cassandra kicks her and the elf lets out a snort, waking quickly.  

      It’s only then that I realize we have an audience. The four of us scream and huddle together, Harding’s small arms wrapped around my neck. Dorian, Cullen, Leliana, Josie, Varric, Vivienne, Cole, Iron Bull, Krem and everyone else stands around us, staring.

      Cassandra’s head leans against my shoulder and I see her struggling to stay awake. Her hands grope for a weapon, but she can’t find one.

      “Well, we certainly know who can’t hold their liquor,” comments Varric.

      I groan again, “When did the sun get so bright?”

      “Since it rose this morning.”

      Sera looks down, “Well. My clothes have run off.”

      Iron Bull bellows a laugh, “We better get you something to eat and to wear.”

      Scout Harding stands and sits back down again, her hand grasping her head, “Stood up way to fast. I don’t recommend.”

      I crawl to my hands and feet, while Cassandra goes back to lying on the ground with a prayer. Sera herself stays where she is, too dazed to move.

      I get to my shaky feet and take a few steps, but my foot catches the other and I fall straight on my face.

      Cassandra takes one look at me and lets out a laugh— a sound that I’ve never really heard before. It’s nice to see her laughing—even at my misfortune.

      The Seeker stops suddenly and puts a hand to her mouth, eyes wide, “Maker’s breath I feel sick.”

      Iron Bull huffs, “Come on you four.” And before I can stop him, the Qunari wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me easily. I nestle into his arms. Next, Cassandra is gently thrown over Bull’s shoulder and I hear her groan. He grabs Sera by the ankle and yanks her onto his horns, the elf dangling in delight. Even though she’s only in her small clothes. Scout Harding stumbles backwards and Iron Bull grabs her and she sits in the crook of his elbow.

      “It’s off to the infirmary with you,” he says, lumbering away.

     

+++

 

The four of us sit around the table, sipping a remedy—a concoction of Elfroot and Rashvine, made by Leliana.

      Cullen watches me, a slight smile on his face and I sip my drink, trying not to blush.

      “Do you want the good news, or the bad news?” asks Krem, grinning from ear to ear.

      “Ugh. I don’t want to hear it,” mutters Cassandra, gulping down her remedy.

      “After our game of Wicked Grace, it seemed like a good idea to Bull to let you continue drinking,” explains Varric.

      “It was Wintersend,” the Qunari argues.

      “You got us drunk?” accuses Cassandra.

      “I may have had a role to play,” confessed Josie. “I thought you’d be able to hold you liquor. Antivans certainly have a higher tolerance it seems.”

      “Just tell us what happened,” I groan.

      “Sera was the first. She stole Maryden’s lute and started singing The Dawn Will Come to her.”

      Sera sits up, “Say what now?”

      “Then she started unbuttoning her tunic… and that’s how you ended up like that.”

      I glance at Sera, who still refuses to put some clothes on. She says it’s a nice change, to have the wind blow… blow where, I don’t want to know.

      “You were about to take more than you tunic and pants off, but Iron Bull stopped you,” says Varric, looking at Sera.

      Josie sighs, “Then Harding challenged you to an archery contest. And arrows went flying.”

      I laugh, “Did anyone get an arrow in their ass? Varric, I’m looking at you.”

      “Me, Stumbles? I don’t get arrows in my ass. I’m a pain in the ass to others.”

      “May I ask who won, Josephine?” asks Harding.

      “You did.”

      “What?” yells Sera. “No way she did.”

      “She managed to shoot an arrow straight through an apple sitting on top of a plate… while drunk,” cuts Krem. He grins, “It was amazing.”

      Harding blushes and tries to hide her smile behind her cup, “Too bad I don’t remember it. I should train my scouts to do the same.”

      Varric looks at me, “Then it was you and Cassandra. Giggling like maidens. Stumbles ate the apple Harding shot then Cassandra started dancing to Sera’s song.”

      Cassandra lets out something like a scream.

      “Then… Lydia joined in the dance and before we knew it, you both ran outside and started singing the Chant of Light but you ran out of juice before you could finish it.”

      I glance at Cassandra but her eyes are wide, and she mutters, “Maker take me.”

      “Scout Harding ran from the tavern to join you and Sera too, until you all passed out on the ground,” says Josie.

      I laugh and pain shoots through my temple. So I just groan, “So… morale of that story. Cassandra got drunk?”

      “I only had a few,” says Cassandra, sending me a look.

      “A few as in seven, then yes. A few,” says Varric.

      Cassandra eyelids flutter shut, “I knew I would regret it.”

      “Well, you didn’t do anything stupid,” I say. “Always look on the bright side. I mean, dancing isn’t that bad. I mean, I bet you were pretty good.”

      “Graceful as though she was on the battlefield,” nods Varric. Then he clears his throat. “Though you did trip.”

      Bull laughs, “At least you didn’t wake up in some else’s bed naked as the day you were born.”

      Cassandra glares at him, “No. I suppose I didn’t.”

      Krem grins, “That happened to the Chief once.”

      Bull shoots a look at Krem who just keeps grinning.

      Josephine shakes her head, “I do not want to know how that happened.”

      Cassandra stands, gulping down yet another cup of her remedy, “I should get to my duties.”

      “What, smashing the crap out of practice dummies?” I ask.

      Cassandra swallows and nods, “They keep me fit.”

      Cullen shakes his head, “I’m sure for today you can be relieved of your duties. Get some rest, all four of you.”

      Harding grins, “No Exalted Plains for me!”

      Sera leaps from her chair, “No work, yeah!” She bolts from the room without waiting for an answer.                                                                                                        

 

+++

 

The fresh air certainly helps clear my foggy head and my pounding headaches ebbs a little. Leaning against the cracked battlements, I look out over the mountains. An eagle flies high, circling something.

      “I… ah, brought you something to drink.”

      I spin to see Cullen standing beside me, a pitcher in his hand. Blinking, I try to form words, but his eyes are yet agree distracting, “I… I… thank you.”

      He hands me the pitcher and I take a sip. It’s water—thank the Maker.

      “How’s your head?”

      I nod, swallowing the water, “It’s still there. Pounding against my temples. But hey, that’s what I get for drinking too much.”

      Cullen laughs, “You had good reason. And Cassandra even seemed to be enjoying herself.”

      I grin, “When she heard we yelled the Chant of Light at the top of our lungs, she wasn’t too happy.”

      “You’re singing was certainly… something to behold.”

      I give him a look, “Don’t you mean beautiful?”

      “Yes…”

      I shake my head, taking another sip of water.

      “Perhaps when you’re feeling better, we could play a game of chess on my new board.”

      “This time, I won’t get splinters.”

      Cullen nods, “I see you still wear the necklace I gave you.”

      My hand moves to necklace dangling on my neck. I had opened it as my last present and Cullen was occupied talking to Josie, so I didn’t get to thank him. “Of course. It’s beautiful.”

      “You… you like it?”

      “How did you know Hallas are my favourite animal?”

      “Well… I had Varric’s help.”

      I smile, “I love it, Cullen. Thank you.”

      He scratches his head and we both stare out to the mountains. The silence is nice, but my brain is racing to find something to say.

      I turn to him, “About—”

      “Thank you,” he says at the same time. The Commander blinks, “Oh sorry, you go.”

      I hold up my hands, “No, no, you go.”

      He swallows, eyes locked onto mine, “I… just wanted to say how grateful I am for your help with Samson. I know without your help… well, we wouldn’t have found Maddox and certainly not any information on Samson’s armour.”

      “It was my pleasure, Cullen. I would never leave you to those types of burdens.”

      His eyes stay on mine, “If there is anything I can do to repay you—”

      “You don’t need to repay me Cullen. I’m your friend—friends help each other.”

      “Friend,” he says, almost a whisper. He leans in and plants a small kiss on my cheek, “I’ll let… you… ah, get back to your mountain watching.”

      I can’t even say anything as I watch him leave. Partly because I’m too stunned and partly because I want him to do it again.

     

+++

 

And I can’t even stop thinking about it as we sit down to play one of our weekly games. Tonight: _The March of Fereldan_ —a board game supplied by Josephine. We must assume the roles of settlers hoping to build villages and strongholds throughout the land of Fereldan, while acquiring resources to build and trade with.

      Dorian, Bull, Harding, Josie, Cullen, Cassandra, Varric and I are huddled around the table, the rest of the group busy, or sleeping.

      As the game gets underway, I keep glancing at Cullen, but he doesn’t look at me, much to my distress.

      It’s Cassandra’s turn and her eyes flit around the table. Most of the board is filled with our villages and strongholds, so now it’s a game of strategy to win.

      The Seeker looks at her cards, “I need wood.”

      I blink.

      The table is silent.

      She looks around, face a steel mask, “I said I need wood. Does anyone have wood? I’ll trade.”

      Varric takes a quick sip of his drink.

      For most of the game, everyone has needed to trade straw or maybe ore to build on the board, but Cassandra seems to be the first to need _wood_.

      She’s slightly angry now. No one is answering her, “I just need wood. Why is that so hard?”

      I clench my jaw shut so I don’t laugh. Harding stares at me, her mouth a straight line, as we both try to contain our laughter. Josephine has a slight blush on her cheeks and even Cullen is watching in shock.

      Bull leans forward, a grin on his face, “I’ll give you some wood.”

      “Really?” says Cassandra, face lighting up.

      “No. But Varric will.”

      The dwarf himself splutters, “What? Maker’s balls, no way.”

      Cassandra’s brow furrows, “Wood isn’t that rare… why are you all acting like this?”

      I let out a squeak, “No reason. No one has wood.”

      Dorian snorts.

      But she’s figured it out. Her eyes grow wide, “Oh Maker.”

      Dorian claps slowly, “Finally, the one who reads _Swords & Shields_ has figured at the innuendo. I’m so proud.”

      She glares at me, but I grin at her, “But still, I’m sure Varric has some wood for you.”

      Cassandra’s eyes nearly fall from her head and Varric glares at me.

      Dorian sighs, “Cassandra, here. I’ll give you wood if you trade me some straw.”

      Reluctantly, Cassandra hands over her card.  
      Dorian takes the card and looks at it, “Hm. Funny, I’d thought you’d want trade with Varric.”

      Cassandra throws her hand of cards at Dorian, “I’ve had enough. I’ll be in my chambers.”

      “Reading _Swords & Shields_, I hope.”

      “You can bet,” comes her reply as she walks from the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the board game scene actually happened while I was playing with my friends one time (though we all knew the meaning of wood, unlike the poor Seeker) and I thought it would be pretty funny to write in here. Also Cullen’s little cheek kiss was a sneaky fluffy moment between the two!! And for those who are wondering the real life board game is called Settlers of Catan, if anyone is interested in playing—it is a very fun game! Oh, and still, more character development chapters are coming—the main storyline will probably be a couple of chapters away, but I really do love writing these little scenes between all of the characters.


	33. Chapter 32

Three weeks seem to blur in a blink of an eye when closing Rifts, fighting Venatori and rebuilding Skyhold are the sole focus of our days.

      Though it’s not too bad, my feet are sore from walking everywhere—even Cassandra’s complained once or twice.

      And yet, here we are, sitting in the tavern, Wicked Grace cards shuffled and in our hands. I know the Angel of Death is coming soon. I have a pretty good hand, though maybe not the best. And it’s our last game for the night. Cassandra takes a card from the pile and grunts, placing the Angel of Death on the table.

      We place our cards down, looking at each other’s hands.

      Josephine just smirks as she spreads her cards out, showing her four of a kind.

      “Again?” I ask.

      Josephine smiles, “My sister and I played a lot.”

      Packing up the cards, I notice Cassandra and Varric leaving together, talking. They have certainly become closer in the past months at Skyhold and I smile. It’s good to see our plan coming together.

      And so we leave the tavern, Leliana and Josie beside me.

      Josephine tilts her head, “So, Lydia. How has Cullen been?”

      “Cullen?” I ask. “He’s… he’s great.”

      Leliana and Josie exchange looks.

      “What?”

      “Well, it seems our Commander is a little smitten. With you,” says Leliana.

      “Me?”

      “Have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s so romantic?” says Josephine. She claps her hands together. And I can’t help but think of all the times Leliana has looked her Josephine with that warmth in her eyes that she never gives anyone else.

      “I’m sure your flirting skills are a little better now?” pushes Josephine.

      “Leliana told you, didn’t she?”

      “I didn’t know if you wanted some lessons.”

      “I’m fine, Josie. Thanks for the offer though. But… I’m sure I can handle it.”

      We enter the reach, fires burning in their braziers.

      A hand comes to my shoulder and Josephine smiles at me, “If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m willing to give you some lessons.”

      I cup her hand, “Thank you Josie.”

      “The Emerald Graves, again?” comes a voice.

      The three of us look up to see Varric and Cassandra standing together in the doorway to a stairwell.

      Cassandra nods, “The Inquisitor wishes to find a bear terrorizing the woods.”

      Leliana pushes both Josephine and I behind the archway entrance. The couple haven’t noticed us. With her body pushed mostly against Josephine—I have to bite my lip to hide my smile—Leliana, puts a finger to her lips to hush me.

      Josephine, flustered with the situation, seems completely oblivious to Leliana’s body against hers. She’s listening to the conversation.

      “Ah, I bet Stumbles picked you for a reason. I hear you quite like taking down bears.”

      Cassandra actually chuckles, “The Hinterlands is full of bears—we took down quite a few last week.”

      They fall into silence and the three of us peek around the corner to see the two falling into an awkward silence.

      Varric scratches the back of his head, “I’d… better let you get some sleep then. I’m sure Stumbles will want you up bright and early.”

      “She may want us up early, but she can never seem to get up herself.”

      “That’s why she has you.”

      Cassandra nods, her mouth pressed in a tight line. She inclines her head, “Good night Varric.”

      “Yeah. I’ll see you in a few days.”

      Cassandra turns, her body stiff. I see Varric hesitate for a few seconds before grabbing Cassandra’s hand.

      I hear Josephine gasp.

      “Just stay safe, Seeker. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

      She blinks, but no words form. She doesn’t need to reply when Varric grips the front of her shirt and pulls her down into a kiss.

      My mouth opens on its own accord, but a hand clamps over it before I can scream. Leliana gives me a glare and Josie has her own hand over her mouth.

      Cassandra eyes flutter closed, her hand coming to rest on Varric’s neck.

      My whole body shakes from trying to keep my scream in. Wait till I tell Dorian.

      The Seeker pulls away, her hand still resting on Varric’s neck. Her hard stare is gone and she looks at him with something almost resembling affection. Which I didn’t think Cassandra was capable of. “Consider that your Wintersend present.”

      “Three weeks late,” breathes Varric.

      “Better late than never.”

      “I couldn’t agree more.”

      Leliana pulls us back behind the wall and stares at us—even the Spymaster is too stunned for words.

      I can hear footsteps coming our way. Leliana pulls us down the stairs and stops us halfway.

      “Walk,” she hisses in a whisper. Josie and I follow her back up the stone stairs. “And I do believe that’s the best possible way.” Her voice is loud now.

      “But don’t you see,” says Josephine. And I’m completely in the dark here. “The Western Approach isn’t going to be free of spiders. We just don’t have enough soldiers to find and kill every nest.”

      Cassandra appears at the top of the stairs, her face a mask, but there is a slight blush on her cheeks. She watches us as we climb the stairs, meeting her on the landing. Varric is gone.

      “What are you talking about?” asks Cassandra.

      “Oh, the spiders in the Western Approach,” says Josephine.

      Cassandra’s eyes flick to me, “We’ll handle them if we come across anymore.”

      I nod.

      “What?” she asks.

      “What?”

      “You’re looking at me… strangely.”

      “No, I simply look at everyone weirdly.”

      “Goodnight, Cassandra,” says Leliana, leading Josephine and I towards our chambers. Cassandra nods and turns, heading into the darkness.

      It’s only when I say goodnight to the other two and I’m safely within my own chambers that I can’t stop grinning. Not even when I’m in bed, trying to sleep.

 

 

+++

 

Varric seems distracted. And maybe not because he kissed Cassandra. No—they’re on pretty good terms at the moment. He’s worried. I can see it in the way he stares out to the entrance of Skyhold, as if waiting for someone. I don’t know where he is now, but I know he wanted to be left alone—he said he had some letters to write.

      I haven’t seen him in a few days—ever since they kissed. And I’m starting to get a little worried.

      “Are you sure Bull’s up here?” comes Cassandra’s voice.

      I snap from my thoughts, “Yeah. These are the quarters Cullen gave him. I just need to ask him about his Ben-Hassrath activities.”

      Cassandra nods and I can’t help but smile. Her eyes flick to me and she returns the smile.

      Pushing the door open, I look at the papers in my hand, “Hey Bull. I just need some of your—” Cassandra’s hand grasps my arm and I look up to see Bull lying on the bed, legs spread wide, elbows holding him up. And naked.

      Dorian stares at us, only wearing his pants—his muscular chest bare.

      I cough, “Oh Maker… I’m so sorry.”

      But my eyes seem to have a mind of their own and the travel to Bull. He has black tattoos inked on his shoulders and many scars from various fights. But my eyes don’t stop there: they travel down Bull’s body. And he’s _huge_.

      I cough again, looking at my papers.

      “Oh, I didn’t realise you were going to join us,” says Dorian.

      “Sorry to disturb your rest, Bull,” comes Cullen’s voice as he walks into the room, eyes scanning over a piece of parchment. “But we’ve been getting—O… Oh sweet Maker!” His hands go to cover his eyes and the flick to me, mildly concerned.

      “Cullen, how’s it going?” asks Bull.

      Cullen keeps his eyes on me and I can only look back in shock—the heat of my cheeks almost as hot as a fire.

      Josephine waltzes in, “Inquisitor, I saw you walking up here and I thought perhaps… Oh!” She blinks at the sight.

      “And I didn’t know you were joining us either,” says Dorian.

      “I—I’m so sorry,” stampers Cullen.

      “Yes, me too,” I say.

      “I cannot move my legs,” whimpers Josephine.

      “Or your eyes by the look of it,” mutters Dorian.

      Cassandra just stares. It seems she’s gone into shock and her body won’t function at all. After a few seconds, she lets out a small squeak, her arm still gripping mine. Kind of a delayed reaction, but her brain is probably trying to process it all.

      “Oh for fuck’s sake,” growls Bull.

      Cassandra blinks, snapping from her daze. She’s in front of Cullen, Josie and I, burdened with the full view, “Do… do you see this?”

      Cullen shakes his head, “No.”

      “Well, I can,” I splutter.

      “So… I take it…” says Cassandra, finally getting her brain back.

      “Actually, he’s the one who’s been taking it,” says Bull, pointing at Dorian.

      Cullen lets out a laugh.

      I grin, “Nice work there Dorian. You’ve out done yourself this time.”

      “Yes. I thought so too.”

      “I apologise for interrupting what I assume was a…” Cassandra clears her throat, gesturing to find the right word.

      “A fling?” I finish.

      “There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun,” says Cullen.

      “Who wouldn’t be a little curious?” says Josephine.

      Cassandra stares at her, eyes wide, “Curious?”

      Dorian nods, “This is more than just a fling. Bull and I intend to continue.”

      “Well, by all means, have as much fun as you want,” I say.

      “Is there a problem?” asks Bull.

      “No,” says Cullen.

      “Not at all,” confirms Josephine.

      I wiggle my eyebrows at the two, “I’m glad you’re both happy.”

      “A surprise,” says Cassandra. “I’ll admit. But not a problem.” She’s still staring.

      Cullen bows his head, “We’ll leave you be.” He backs away from the sight.

      Josephine nods, “Yes, do enjoy yourselves.”

      I tug on Cassandra’s arm and she blinks, “Right. Yes.”

      Nodding at the couple, I smile, “Enjoy yourselves. Maker knows time isn’t our friend to enjoy these kind of moments.”

      “Thanks boss,” comes Bull’s voice as we leave.

      Walking along the battlements, Cassandra and I are silent. Though, her hand is still clutching my arm.

      “You can let go, it’s gone.”

      Cassandra pulls away, “I know.”

      I laugh, “Oh come on. You were staring.”

      “I was in shock,” argues Cassandra.

      “Because of how big it was?”

      Cassandra shoves me and I laugh. Even she lets out a chuckle herself, “It was… a surprise. I wasn’t ready.”

      “Wasn’t ready? Well, I’ll make sure to prepare you next time we walk into Bull’s quarters. Maybe a blindfold?”

      She shakes her head, “A drink of water would be good.”

      I stare at her, “Why?”

      “Because I get thirsty when I’m nervous.”

      “You, nervous? I didn’t think that was possible. The great and mighty Seeker, nervous about a body part.”

      “I’ve been nervous many times in my life.” She shoots me a look, “And not just because of a body part. I was nervous when I first came to the Seekers and when I had to go through the ritual… when I was named the Right Hand of the Divine…”

      “And when you kissed Varric?”

      She stops and spins, pushing me against the stone wall, hard. She stares at me, “What?”

      “OK, I let that one slip… A few nights ago…” Her arm digs into my ribs, “Can you please let go of me?”

      She stares daggers at me, “What did you see?”

      “Well… you two were talking about bears. And one thing happened after another and Varric pulled you into a kiss.”

      She shoves me away quite hard and I stumble—yet again losing my balance.

      A hand comes to wrap around my shoulders and yanks me upright so I don’t fall. Cassandra’s hands dig into my shoulders, her eyes staring into mine, “So you saw: Varric pulled _me_ into the kiss. Not the other way around.”

      I cough, “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

      Her grip loosens, and she bows her head, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

      My hand comes to hers, peeling it from my armour. I take both of her hands in mine, “Cassandra. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. A kiss is a kiss.”

      “But with Varric…”

      “Did you like it?”

      She blinks, “What?”

      “You did—otherwise you would have thrown him across the room. You may have had bad history with him before, but you two have gotten closer—with the shit that’s been happening, I believe you two are comfortable together. And those dreams of the future… you both have them. You seek comfort in each other.”

      She sighs, “I never thought it would be him.” Her hands uncurl from mine, fingers tracing her lips.

      I smile, “You should have seen your face.”

      She glares at me, “I was not that bad.”

      “You’re as awkward as me when you talk to men,” I say with a grin.

      “At least I can talk to them,” she continues walking.

      I scoff, running after her, “Was that a joke I just heard?”

      “Perhaps.”

      “But, I’m happy for you,” I say.

      She smiles, “Come, I know the perfect place to relax.”

 

+++

 

“The library?” I ask.

      “Dorian isn’t here to distract us.”

      I raise an eyebrow, “We all know what he’s up to.”

      We find a place on the soft woolen rug and begin piling books around us. Cassandra, grabs her copies of _Swords & Shields_ and places them in front of me. Every chapter.

      Staring at her, she smiles, “You should read them.”

      Picking up the first volume, I turn it in my hands, “Varric’s books?”

      “They’re not _just_ Varric’s books,” she says, sitting next to me. “They have characters, a plot… romance.”

      “I’ll give them a try,” I say, opening to the first page.

      “You will?”

      “Of course. I must see what all the fuss is about.”

      She blushes, “I’ll tell you what pages you may wish to skip.”

      “You memorized those spots?”

      Her blush deepens, “No… I’ve just read them a lot.”

      I smile, settling myself in a comfortable position to begin reading.

 

+++

 

I’m only a quarter of a way through when the smut begins. I blink, shifting myself. Cassandra’s reading another book, a small smile on her lips.

      I keep reading on, but the detail…

      “Well, I’m sure that can’t happen,” I blurt.

      Cassandra looks at the page I’m up to, eyes scanning over the words. She mouth twitches, “It can.”

      I pull back, “Maker, there’s no way her leg can bend like that.”

      She raises an eyebrow, “Obviously you’ve never tried.”

      My eyes drift to the floor, “No. I haven’t.”

      She looks at me, “Oh.”

      I smile sadly, “I never went that far with my suitors.”

      “And for good reason. You hardly know them.” She pauses. “Lydia… just because you haven’t bedded anyone… that doesn’t mean anything. You’re still young.”

      I laugh sadly, “Mother always said I should have been married by now.”

      “That’s preposterous,” says Cassandra.

      “That’s the way my mother was brought up.” I meet Cassandra’s gaze. “Have you ever…”

      She turns away, “You’re such a child.”

      I laugh, “Fine. I’ll ask Josie for help.”

      “No, I… just wasn’t ready for the question.”

      “Just like you weren’t ready for Bull’s surprise.”

      She snorts and her face turns grave. “I’ve only ever bedded one man in my life.” She looks at me, eyes almost fearful.

      She thinks I’m about to mock her for her inexperience.

      I swallow, “You had other duties—being a Seeker wouldn’t allow you to take lovers. And being Right Hand of Divine… I understand Cass, you had more pressing matters.”

      She nods, almost gratefully, “Though the man I met had been because I was with the Seekers. He… was a mage.”

      “How did you meet?” I ask.

      “It was just under a decade ago. I came across information that led me to believe Divine Beatrix III was about to be assassinated.”

      “That’s how you became the Hero of Orlais. I remember Grandma told me that story.”

      She nods, “I had plans to interrogate him. But I was wounded and he helped me. We were soon captured and together we fought the corruption. What happened after that…”

      I grin, “You two did the naughty.”

      Cassandra gives me a look, “We were simply free for a while as the Chantry picked itself off the ground.” She waves a hand, “It only lasted a few years. As you said, being Right Hand of the Divine took up most of my time. But we made the most of it.”

      “Oh?” I ask with a sly smile. “What was his name?”

      Cassandra doesn’t reply for a few seconds, “His name was Galyan.”

      “Galyan the mage.”

      “He… he died at the Conclave.”

      I’m shocked and I can hardly form any words, “What?”

      She just watches me, lips pursed.

      “Cass, I’m so sorry…” That’s why she was so determined to find out who killed the Divine—who caused the explosion. I was the only one she keep actually blame. I was the only lead she had to find her lover’s killer.   
      “It was not your fault. It was Corypheus who did it. We weren’t… involved at the time, but I still loved him.”

      I take Cassandra’s hand, “I’ll make Corypheus pay. Don’t you worry.”  
      She smiles, “As will I. May the Maker guide us.”

     

I hear voices. My body wakes up, but I make sure to keep my eyes closed. I must still be in the library, I can smell the musty pages of the books surrounding us. My head leans on something and I guess it’s Cassandra’s shoulder. It’s surprising soft—maybe because of all her muscle.

      “She fell asleep half an hour ago,” says Cassandra. “I didn’t want to wake her.”

      A small laugh echoes through the stacks of books and I nearly open my eyes just to double check it’s Cullen. But I stay still as Cullen continues, “I could take her if you’d like.”

      There’s a small pause, “I’m sure she would appreciate that.”

      “I see you’ve finally found someone to read with,” says Cullen as I feel his hands softly touch my waist. “I would… but my duties hardly give me free time.”

      “Perhaps when you are free, Lydia would love to have another person to read with.”

      Cullen’s hand slips, but steadies itself as he pulls me from Cassandra’s side. I’m nestled in his strong arms and I can feel that he’s not wearing his armour.

      Cassandra stands, “I hear you have a new board.”

      Cullen grips me a little tighter, “I do, yes. Though I haven’t had a chance to play a game on it yet.”

      “I’m sure Lydia is willing.”

      What is she trying to do? She seems to be pushing Cullen to do something with me.

      “Perhaps in a few days, when she’s not too busy.”

      “I’m sure she’d like that.”

      There’s a silence as they walk through the hallways, getting to my chambers. A door opens and Cullen steps through.

      “I best be getting some sleep,” says Cassandra.

      “I won’t be too far behind.”

      I hear footsteps—Cassandra leaving—but they stop, “Cullen. Take care of her. She’s a good woman.” And the footsteps continue. Cullen, most likely shocked from the Seeker’s comment, stands in the doorway for a little longer before heading up the stairs to my room.

      He places me almost delicately on the bed and even spreads a blanket over me. There’s another pause of silence before I feel his hand brush a strand of hair from my face.

      And soon I’m alone in my chambers. But I sleep well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OooHhh my Lord, the Varric and Cassandra ship has sailed and they’ve finally kissed. Brings tears to my eye! (I only kid of course!) But quite a long chapter this time round and lots of pairings in it—I just had to use the Iron Bull romance seen with Dorian. And now, the main quest continues onwards with the all powerful Champion of Kirkwall coming to shake some things up. Oh those Cass/ Varric feels.


	34. Chapter 33

“Stumbles, may I speak to you?” asks Varric.

      I look up from my report. I thought it would be best to take it to the battlements for some fresh air as I read through the tedious work. I’m surprised to see Varric here—after all, he’s been busy with letters for the past few days. “Sure Varric, what do you need?”

      “Well, over the past weeks, I know you’ve all been working hard. And with everyone acting all inspirational, it jogged my memory.” He motions me to follow.

      Tucking the papers into my pocket, I follow him.

      “I… I sent a message to an old friend a few weeks ago. Hence why I’ve been quite busy. Don’t worry, she’s crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he’s doing. After all, it’s been a little more than a month and a half since we came to Skyhold and we since don’t have much information on him. So, she can help.”

      I nod, “Well, I’m always looking for new allies. Introduce me.”

      “That’s where I’m taking you now.” We come to a little alcove on the battlements, a place out of the way from guards on watch and from the people below.

      Varric and I stand at the edge of the balcony.

      I frown, “You wanted me to meet…?”

      Footsteps behind me distract me from finishing the sentence. I turn and see a woman, her long black hair tied in a braid and her ice blue eyes piercing. She would have to be a little younger than Varric. A sword is slung across her back, glinting in the sunlight. Her armour is a matter of sharp edges—to intimidate enemies.

      “Stumbles, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall,” says Varric.

      “Though I don’t use that title much anymore.”

      I gap at her… it’s actually _her_. I try to smile but it comes at shaky and I  

      Varric nods, “Hawke, the Inquisitor. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him after all.”

      Varric inclines his head with a grin at Hawke. He moves away to grab a drink from the barrels in the corner, giving us some privacy. Which is probably a bad idea.

      Hawke leans against the stone barrier, watching the people milling around in the courtyard, “Impressive view, reminds me of my home in Kirkwall. I had a balcony that overlooked the whole city. I loved it at first. But after a while, all I could see were the people out there depending on me.”

      I come to stand beside her, watching the woman with an odd fascination. I had only heard tales told by merchants about Hawke’s deeds—and of course Varric’s book, but to be this close to the Champion is certainly something different.

      I laugh, “You’re lucky it was just a single city. I’ve got half of Thedas.” I pause and realise how cocky that sounded. My eyes flick to her, “Ah, not to brag…”

      Hawke waves my comment off with a smile, “You’re doing everything you can to protect them.”

      I swallow, “Does it ever get any easier?”

      “I’ll let you know,” she says, staring at the ground below us. “I don’t envy you, Inquisitor. But I may be able to help you.”

      “Varric said you fought Corypheus before,” I say.

      Hawke pushes herself off the barrier at sends a glance to Varric before settling back in me, “Fought and killed. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the Darkspawn to influence them.”

      I glance at Varric and see him take a large gulp of wine. He walks towards us, “Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned then against each other.”

      Hawke shifts, “If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again.”

      “If that’s what happened to the Wardens, do you think we can free them?” I ask.

      “It’s possible. But we need to know more first. I’ve got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

      “Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks. Did your friends disappear with them?”

      “No,” says Hawke. “He told me he’d be hiding in the old smuggler’s cave near Crestwood.”

      “If you didn’t know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?”

      “The Templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of Lyrium. It was red.”

      My eyes flash to Varric.

      She swallows, “I had hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it.”

      “Corypheus had Templars with him at Haven. They looked like they’d been exposed to the red Lyrium.”

      “Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more.”

      I incline my head, “I appreciate the help.

      “I’m doing this as much for myself as for you,” she says. “Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I’d killed him before. This time, I’ll make sure of it.”

      We stand in silence for a little while, before I clear my throat, “So, I heard you had family and friends in Kirkwall. Where are they now?”

      Varric watches on, still drinking from his bottle of wine.

      Hawke looks at me, “When the Warden’s began acting strangely, I had my friend, Aveline, take my sister out of the Free Marches. I had to keep my family safe. I… I’m never really happy leaving Anders alone, but once I realized Wardens were acting strangely, I had no choice.”

      “Anders? He’s… your lover?”

      Hawke nods.

      “What was he like?”

      “Complicated. It’s not like the minstrels make it out to be. He’s not just a monster or a hero. Or maybe he’s both. He was trying to change the world. He knew it couldn’t happen peacefully. But I still love him, faults and all.”

      Varric takes one last swig of the wine, “Josephine has set up some quarters for you Hawke. I can take you there if you’d like.”

      Hawke nods, “That would be appreciated. I’ve been walking for two weeks trying to reach this place.” She looks at me, “I’m sure we’ll talk more later. It was nice to meet you.”

      “And you, Hawke… maybe later you could sign my copy of _The Tales of the Champion_?”

      Hawke smiles as Varric leads her to the sleeping quarters, “I’d love to, Inquisitor.”

      I’m left on the balcony, alone and slightly excited. I just met the Champion of Kirkwall. A hero… a legend even. I let the wind blow over my skin and I take a breath of the fresh mountain air. I should get back to my report.

      And so I head to the stables to get some privacy. The stable boys smile at me and leave me with my horse. I read through the documents as I groom my black stallion, the creature whickering softly. At least I have a friend as I read the daunting papers.

 

My eyes skim over the last page and I’ve finished—after half an hour of reading, I can finally relax. Maybe a nice cold drink at the tavern with Bull is in order. And I can ask about details of his time with Dorian. I grin.

      Stroking the stallion’s fur softly, I notice people talking excitedly amongst one another. The merchants gossip and even the stable hands around me are talking in quick sentences.

      “… See her? It must be her.”

      My eyes flick to the merchants, “…The Champion of Kirkwall.”

      “Varric had brought her here…”

      I blink and the pieces fall into place.

      That’s who Varric was sending letters to. Hawke. And that’s probably why he was so distracted, he was worried that she wouldn’t make it—after all Hawke had said she’d been walking for two weeks to get here. He was distracted… and he didn’t want to tell me… maybe because he wanted it to be a surprise—or maybe he didn’t want many people to know. But as I look around, it seems most of Skyhold knows.

      Most of Skyhold.

      It dawns on me.

      And the document slips from my hand and fear wells up in the pit of my stomach.

      He hasn’t told Cassandra.

 

+++

 

I’m running across the bailey, curious faces turning to watch me as I sprint, papers flying everywhere. But I don’t care. The merchants stop gossiping and yell at me to slow down. But I don’t.

      Running past the various wounded soldiers, I be careful not to step on anyone. But my mind is rapidly trying to sort out my thoughts. And my heart beats fast, like a drum the Bards use for their music.

      I take the stone steps two at a time and it seems to take me years to reach the top.

      I see Cullen turn to my noisy footfalls, “Inquisitor?”

      Waving a hand at him, I rush past him. Her quarters are in sight—the third floor above the forges. Just next to the practice dummies, her favourite place. I can’t see through the windows—they’ve been glazed over—and it gives me an extra sense of urgency.

      She might not know. Or maybe she does and Varric’s breaking it to her slowly. Maybe…

      Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I spin trying to find the stairs. I can hear something being thrown across the room.  

      No…

      I rush up the stairs to see Cassandra push Varric against the wooden railing.

      And she punches him. Her face is contorted in so much anger, I don’t know if we’ll ever get her back, “You knew where Hawke was all along.” She grips Varric’s tunic, not letting him go.

      I don’t know what to do.

      But with surprising strength, Varric pushes Cassandra off him, claiming his ground, “You’re damned right I did!”

      Cassandra glares, “You conniving little shit!” She swings again, but Varric ducks under her fist and bolts to the other side of the room.

      “You kidnapped me! You interrogated me! What did you expect?”

      I rush forward, putting myself between the two, “Enough!” My voice echoes through the room with power I didn’t even know I had.

      Cassandra’s fiery expression cuts to me, “You’re taking his side?”

      “I said _enough_ ,” I yell.

      The two actually listen to me. Varric creeps to my side.

      Cassandra stalks towards us, “We needed someone to lead this Inquisition. First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Fereldan. But she had vanished. Then, we looked for Hawke. But she was gone too. We thought it all connected, but no.” Her expression doesn’t change—her nostrils flare with each word she spits. Her hostile face is so alien to the gentle, stoic face I had come to know. Her stare turns to Varric, “It was just you. You kept her from us.”

      “The Inquisition _has_ a leader,” says Varric, his voice strong and he gestures to me.

      “Hawke would have been at the Conclave. If anyone could have saved Most Holy…”

      “Cassandra, listen. Varric’s not responsible for what happened at the Conclave,” I say, stepping a little more between them. Cassandra might lash out again.                     

      “I was protecting my friend,” yells Varric.

      “Varric is a lair, Inquisitor. A snake,” her words are like arrows, piercing and hurtful. After everything they’ve built together—a friendship, a steady trust… a kiss. Now it’s all falling apart. “Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, Varric kept her secret.”

       “She’s with us now. We’re on the same side,” argues Varric.

      “We all know whose side you’re on Varric. It will never be the Inquisition’s.”

      “Listen, attacking him now won’t help us, Cassandra,” I growl.

      “Exactly,” says Varric.

      “And you,” I snap, eyes flicking to the dwarf. “You better not be keeping anything else from us.” I don’t want to take sides… I can’t take sides.

      Varric sighs, “I understand.”

      Cassandra turns, her face still a hard mask. She leans against the wooden banister, “I must not think of what could have been. We have so much at stake.” Her voice is softer now, a little less edge to it. But I can see the hurt on her face. When she thinks no one is looking. “Go, Varric. Just… go.” It’s a sad sentence.

      Varric and I exchange looks. But he just turns and heads for the stairs, face matching Cassandra’s. He pauses at the landing, “You know what I think? If Hawke had been at the temple, she’d be dead, too. You people have done enough to her.” He leaves and I can hear the door slam close.

      Cassandra’s head is bowed, “I… believed him. He spun his story for me and I swallowed it. If I’d just explained what was at stake… if I’d just made him understand…” She straightens and turns to me. “But I didn’t, did I? I didn’t explain why we needed Hawke.” She sits down in a chair and I come to squat in front of her. She doesn’t meet my gaze, “I’m such a fool.”

      “What if you hadn’t believed him and you’d tracked Hawke down?” I ask.

      She meets my gaze, “Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor. She supported the mage rebellion, after all. She wouldn’t have trusted me for a second. But this isn’t about Hawke… or even Varric. Not truly. I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter. I don’t deserve to be here.”

      I take Cassandra’s hands in mine and I’m slightly surprised she doesn’t pull away, “You’re too hard on yourself, Cass.”

      “Not hard enough, I think,” is her curt reply.

      “You can’t believe that,” I argue.

      She sighs, her shoulders heaving, “I want you to know, I have no regrets.” She squeezes my hands, “Maybe if we’d found Hawke, the Maker wouldn’t have needed to send you. But he did. I don’t know how it will end, but I would have it no other way.” She drops her gaze, her lips pressed tight together.

      “Hey, it’s going to be fine. I promise.”

      But she doesn’t seem convinced. Her shoulders shake and I quickly pull her into a tight hug. She leans against me, face buried in the crook of my neck. I rock her softly, gripping her tightly.

      “I thought we had something… and he betrayed me.”

      “Shh,” I coo. “Don’t worry about him, Cass.”

      A sob escapes her throat and I close my eyes. For the first time in probably many years, Cassandra cries. Only softly, Maker knows she wouldn’t want anyone else to know she’d been crying. She couldn’t find the Hero of Fereldan or Hawke to lead the Inquisition, she had then watched as the Conclave was destroyed—the Divine and her lover perishing in the explosion. Yet she still hadn’t cried. She stayed strong. After everything she’d been through, she had found comfort in Varric’s company and now… this betrayal was the final straw.

      And don’t know how she managed to keep it together for this long.

      I cradle her and she grips my tunic, “I do not know what is worse. Falling for his story or falling for him.”

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have read this chapter about ten times trying to make it as best I could. I’m still not sure about Cassandra crying though… but I had a thought. After everything she’s been through, she hadn’t cried the whole time. I mean, I’m pretty sure I would have by now. So I thought it was definitely time for Cass to have a little emotional scene. She’s pretty close to Lydia, so I don’t think she’d mind crying with her there! But anyway! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stay extra groovy friends. And I wrote this scene to Big Girls Cry by Sia, because it just captured Cass' emotions so well!


	35. Chapter 34

We stand at the edge of the fortress, looking out over Crestwood. The rain has stopped, the dead don’t walk anymore and the sun begins its ascent.

      Harding stands beside me, “I hear you’re headed to find Hawke.”

      I nod, “Hopefully she’ll give us some answers to this mess.”

      “Well if anyone can find answers, I believe it’s you, Your Worship. After all, you are the Inquisitor.”

      “Thanks Harding… but the Maker unfortunately didn’t give me all the answers… if only.”

      She nods, “Perhaps it was meant to be that way.”

      I look down at her, “You should join us.”

      “Me? Oh, I’m sure you’d walk a lot faster without me. I only have short legs.”

      “Hey boss, are you coming?” yells Bull. The Chargers, Dorian and Varric stand together, weapons at the ready. The Chargers and Harding had helped us take the fort the Inquisition now occupies. It was thanks to them we could carve through the bandits living here.

      I sigh, “Yep.” But my eyes drift to Harding and I lean towards her, “I’m sure Krem wouldn’t mind carrying you.”

      Her eyes nearly pop out of her head and she looks at me, mouth open, “Oh no. I couldn’t do that to him… I’m quite heavy.”

      I give her a knowing look, “I bet he won’t say that.”

      She just stares at me, “He’s not even going with you.”

      “You’d get to feel his muscles. I here he has quite the torso from wielding the maul around all day.”

      Harding giggles, “I do like toned muscles.”

      Snorting, I nod my head vigorously, “Me too.”

      Harding smiles “I’ll meet you back at Skyhold. Krem has offered to walk me back.”

      “Oh? A date then?”

      The head scout recoils, “No! Just a walk back to Skyhold… for most of the day.”

      “Alone… with him? Sounds very romantic.”

      “It does, doesn’t it?”

      I grin, “See you later Harding.”

      Bull leaves his Chargers, with Krem and Harding seeing us off. The four of us begin our trek to find the smuggler’s cave Hawke talked about.

      As we traipse across the hilly terrain, Bull coughs, “So Dorian, about last night…”

      “You were together again last night?” I ask. “How was it?”

      Dorian sighs, “A busy body aren’t you?”

      “Three times!” roars Bull. “Also, do you want you silky underthings back, or did you leave those like a token? Or… wait, did you _forget_ them so you’d have an excuse to come back? You sly dog.”

      I cough, “Three times?”

      “Sparkler, that’s well done,” comes Varric’s voice.

      “So you two are actually a thing?” I ask.

      Dorian sighs again, “I guess we are.”

      Bull grins, “Three times.”

      “There’s no need to go into detail,” says Dorian. “We had fun as you wished us to.”

      “How long exactly have you two been doing… things?”

      Bull bobs his head, thinking, “Since you found us out.”

      “That was only four days ago,” says Varric.

      “You haven’t been spending everyday together, have you?” I ask.

      Dorian gives me a look.

      “You have, haven’t you! Aren’t you worn out?”

      “Please, I don’t get tired,” says Dorian.

      Bull huffs out his chest, “I never get tired either.”

      I roll my eyes, “Well, if you think that, take Varric and scout ahead. The cave is around here somewhere. But the hills look the same everywhere here.”

      Bull hefts his battle axe and nods to Varric. The two of them split off from Dorian and I, taking the lead.

      “I’m guessing you had a reason to leave us together,” says Dorian. “How is she?”

      I sigh, “She still hasn’t talked to him. She hasn’t talked to anyone really. I was hoping she’d come with us today… but with Varric here she refused.”

      Dorian chews his lip, “Will she forgive him?”

      I glance at Varric’s receding form, “To be honest, I don’t know…”

      Dorian clasps my arm, “We’ll get them back together, you needn’t worry.” And he gives me a wink. “I’m am quite skilled in bringing people together.”

      Laughing, I shove him away, “You should know what to do, you’re the one getting laid.”

      The mage grins, “I’m sure you’re not far behind.”

      I cough, “What?”

      “Ah. I see the way you both look at one another. The Commander and the Inquisitor. So romantic.”

      Bull stands at the bottom on the hill, “We found the cave.”

      The four of us move towards the cave, weapons at the ready in case we’re ambushed. The grass beneath my feet soon disappears, replaced with soft sand. The cave mouth is narrow, wooden beams holding the ceiling up. It would have been easy to miss if Bull hadn’t pointed it out.

      Hawke stands at the mouth of the cave and straightens when she spots us, “I’m glad you could make it. I just got here myself. My Warden contact should be at the back of this cave.”

      “A group of Wardens were protecting a villager from corpse out near Crestwood,” I say.

      “They were likely hunting my friend. I’m glad they didn’t come looking for people to help in here. They might well be good men, but they’ve been given bad orders.”

      We move through the cave, sand shifting under my boots. A little stream of water flanks the side of the cave, disappearing to the back—likely a water supply for this Warden.

      A fugitive Warden. Why were the others looking for him? And what did Hawke mean about ‘bad orders’? I decide to leave it for now.

      Scones of fire hang from the walls, shedding much needed light in this dark, dank cave. The flickering light reveals a wooden door. Painted on the door is a skull, with a red streak across its eye sockets.

      “Charming,” I say, pushing the door open.

      Taking a few steps inside, I examine the back of the cave. A small fire burns in the middle of the cavern, wooden plates scattered around the flames. A tanning rack leans against one side of the cavern, while a bed roll and netting sit on the other side. A desk with a candle lit, along with parchments on the top, has been pushed to the back rocky wall.

      I hear a blade drawn and turn to see a man standing a few feet from me, sword pointed at my throat. He wears the blue Grey Warden armour, his black moustache much thicker than Dorian’s neatly groomed one.

      I hold my hands out, not wanting to provoke the Warden.

      Hawke walks forward, “It’s just us. I brought the Inquisitor.”

      The man glances from me to Hawke then back to me, “My name is Stroud and I am at your service, Inquisitor.”

      My muscles relax when Stroud sheaths his sword and I can feel my friends relaxing, “I’ll take all the help I can get. I know the Wardens have troubles of their own. Might… those troubles have anything to do with Corypheus?”

       “I fear it is so,” nods Stroud. “When my friend Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matters to rest. But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal. And I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. My investigation uncovered clues but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.”

      “Maker,” breathes Hawke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy.”

      I blink, “Is the Calling some sort of Grey Warden ritual?”

      “The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him. Starts with dreams. Then come whispers in his head. The Warden says his farewells and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat.”

      “And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now? They think they’re dying?” asks Hawke. It seems even she doesn’t know everything.

      “Yes,” says Stroud. “Likely because of Corypheus. If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear.”

       “So Corypheus isn’t controlling them,” says Hawke. “He’s bluffing them with this Calling. And they’re falling for it.”

      “Are you affected?” I ask.

      “Sadly, yes. It lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire. A creature that makes this music has never known the love of the Maker but… at times, I almost understand it,” Stroud replies.

      “So… the Wardens are making some last, desperate attack on the Darkspawn?” I ask.

      “We are the only ones who can slay Archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world. Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me. Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach.” He points to his map on the desk. “It is an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers.” He walks away, leaving us in the cave.

      Hawke sighs, “Western Approach? It’s hot there, isn’t it?”

      A shiver runs down my spine, “And there are spiders there.”

      She blinks, “Not a fan?”

      “Not at all.”

      Varric chuckles, “I’m sure Hawke will cut them down for you if we come across any.”

      Hawke grins, “I’d love to.”

     

+++

 

We return to Skyhold and low and behold we head straight to a war council meeting. My favourite. I leave Dorian, Varric and Bull to their duties, but decide it would be best if Hawke joins us. I can introduce her to the advisors that way and she’d get an understanding of what we do.

      We enter the room and the three look up from the table. Leliana bows her head, hood hiding her features. It strikes me that she was also looking for Hawke… and she must know about Varric’s betrayal to Cassandra.

      Josephine smiles warmly at the Champion and welcomes her.

      Cullen stares at Hawke, and she does the same.

      “Hawke,” nods Cullen.

      “Cullen. Good to see you again.”

      I blink, “Wait! Of course! You two know each other.”

      “Under harsh circumstances, yes,” says Cullen, lips pressed in a tight line.

      “You finally saw how absurd Knight-Captain Meredith truly was,” says Hawke. “But thank you for… helping me. I’m sure without you I would have been executed.”

      Josephine clears her throat, “And on that note… shall we begin?”

      Luckily the meeting only lasts for an hour—which most of the time I just kept looking at Cullen.

      Departing the room, I quickly move towards Hawke, “Excuse me?”

      She turns.

      “Could… you sign my book?” I feel so stupid. But I may never get another chance.

      “Of course,” smiles Hawke. “Anything for the Inquisitor.”

      We walk together through the reach in silence and I don’t know what to say to her.

      “So the Commander?” asks Hawke. “Are you two are thing…?”

      I cough, “What? No. Where did you hear that?”

      Hawke’s eye grow wide, “Oh! I’m sorry. I just thought… the way you both looked at each other, that maybe you were intimate.”

      I frown, “He looked at me?”

      Hawke lets out a laugh, “He did. Is that a good thing?”

      “Yes,” I breathe. Then gather myself, “Ah… that wasn’t meant to sound creepy.”

      Hawke just smiles, “So you aren’t together… but you’d like to?”

      “Maker… I don’t really know. Is it that obvious?”

      “Well, I spotted it the minute I walked into the war room.”

      “Oh Maker,” I rub my temple.

      “And Varric told me.”

      “That tit.”

      We round a corner, bursting into laughter, when we both nearly walk into someone. My foot hits their boot and I trip. But strong hands keep me from falling.

      I look up to see Cassandra holding me, face a blank slate.

      “Andraste preserve you, now I understand why Varric calls you Stumbles,” says Hawke, letting out another laugh.

      I straighten myself and Cassandra’s hands slide from my arms.

      Hawke’s grin fades and she looks at Cassandra in something almost like awe, “You’re the Hero of Orlais. My father told me about you!”

      I’m not sure if Cassandra wants to punch Hawke or Varric more. She stutters, “Yes… yes I am. And you are Hawke.”

      “Indeed.”

      The three of us stand in silence for a few seconds before I cough, “Hawke is going to sign my copy of _The Tale of the Champion_. I know you have a copy… battered as it is, but you should get it signed as well.”

      Cassandra’s eyes narrow at me, “My copy isn’t battered.”

      “Oh come on, I saw it. It’s got a big hole in it.”

      Hawke’s eyebrows rise, “How?”

      Cassandra blushes, “It’s a long story. But I have… read the tale twice.”

      “Oh?”

      I grin, “Cassandra here loves to read.”

      “Even Varric’s other works?”

      At the mention of his name, I see Cassandra battling inner demons. Her mouth straightens, her eyes harden and her fingers curl into fists.

      Hawke continues, “I haven’t read his _Swords & Shields_, but I know who he based the main character off.”

      Cassandra stares at her, “He based the Knight-Commander off someone real?”

      “He didn’t tell you? The cover image of the character looks exactly like my friend. Much to her despair.”

      “I was not aware,” says Cassandra.

      I urge the two on and the three of us head to my chambers.

      “So, does Varric tease you about everything?” I ask. “I mean, he even had the gall to joke about our cycles.”

      Hawke chuckles, “He does like to tease. But just tease him about his chest hair. He gets quite offensive about that.”

      I grin, “I’ll give it a try.”

     

+++

 

I spot Cullen leaning over his desk, staring at a little wooden box. Making my way into his office, I stand at his desk.

      He looks up at me, “As leader of the Inquisition, you…” he sighs, “There’s something I must tell you.”

      I blink, “Whatever it is, I’m willing to listen. And… not just because I’m the leader… I…”

      He smiles, “Right. Thank you. Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well.”

      He glances at the box. In it is a vial of Lyrium, glowing blue. And it’s a relief it’s not red.

      “Those cut off suffer—some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of Lyrium for the Templars here. But I… no longer take it.”

      “You stopped?” I ask.

      He doesn’t meet my gaze, “When I joined the Inquisition. It’s been months now.”

      “Cullen, if this can kill you…” I can’t finish my sentence. I don’t want anything to happen to him.

      “It hasn’t yet. After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn’t… I will not be bound to the Order—or that life—any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it.” He looks at me. “But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I’ve asked Cassandra to… watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved of duty.”

      “Are you in pain?”

      “I can endure it,” he says.

      I nod, “Thank you for telling me. I respect what you’re doing.”

      “Thank you, Inquisitor. The Inquisition’s army must always take priority. Should anything happen… I will defer to Cassandra’s judgement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lind of a filler chapter this time, yet I hope you enjoyed it!! Have an amazing day my friends!


	36. Chapter 35

“You wanted to speak to me, Stumbles?”

      I motion for him to sit down, “We need to talk.”

      Varric obeys, slowly easing into the seat opposite mine. We’re in a secluded corner of the reach, where hopefully no one will bug us. Especially Hawke. She’s with Bull in the tavern, having a much needed drink after signing our books.

      Varric inclines his head, “Talk away, I am but your humble servant.”

      “Cassandra has calmed down, you know. I think it’s time to take your hand off your crossbow.”

      Varric’s eyes flick to me, “Define ‘calmed down’ for me in terms of who or what she’s been punching right now. I wasn’t trying to keep secrets, I told the Inquisition everything that seemed important at the time.”

      “I know Varric, I believe you. You never would’ve kept quiet otherwise.”

      “I keep hoping… none of this is real. Maybe it’s all some bullshit from the Fade and it’ll just disappear. I know I need to do better. I’m sorry.”

      I sigh, “There’s no need to apologise to me, Varric. But, you know, she’s beating herself up. She regrets how things went back there. You should talk to her.”

      “I appreciate that you’re trying to keep the peace, but things between me and the Seeker are as good as they’ll ever get.”

      “No,” I shout. Anger fuels through me. He doesn’t see the picture. He just doesn’t get it. “No they’re not, Varric. I saw you kiss her. You both care for each other.”

      Varric opens his mouth, trying to form words, “You… you saw that?”

      “Talk to her, Varric. You’re just as heartbroken as she is.”

      He blinks and looks away, “She’ll just punch me again.” There is a mark on his face from where her fist connected with his cheek. A light bruise, but a physical reminder of their ordeal.

      “Just walk into her chambers shirtless.”

      “And that for sure, will get me another bruise.”

      I stand, gripping his shoulder, “You will never know if she’s willing to give you a second chance if you don’t try.”

      “I don’t know if the Seeker gives second chances.”

     

+++

 

We trudge through the Western Approach, hot, sticky and sandy. We’ve not only stayed away from the spider nests, but we managed to take another Keep—Griffon Wing Keep—which had originally been taken over by Venatori. Plus, Cassandra hasn’t killed Varric yet.

      So a pretty productive day. But it’s not over yet. No, we’ve now got to meet Stroud at the Tevinter ritual tower.

      Cassandra walks up ahead, scanning our surroundings while Varric and Dorian are a few ways behind Hawke and I. We don’t talk to each other, but there’s one thing I want to get off my chest.

      “Hawke?”  
      “Yes, Inquisitor?”

      “Did Varric tell you about the Seeker?”

      Hawke looks at me, “Cassandra? He… he…” she clears her throat. “I know she punched him.”

      I sigh, “Yes…”

      Hawke nods, “I didn’t know she was looking for me. I would have… tried to help.”

      I sigh, “If I’m completely honest, I’m glad you didn’t. Otherwise you might have ended up as dead as the Divine.”

      Hawke nods sadly, “Perhaps.” She glances at the back of Cassandra’s head, “Varric cared for her—cares for her.”

      I let out a sad laugh, “Not now, I don’t think.”

      Hawke looks at me, “All the letters he sent always mentioned the Seeker. Sure, most mentioned how she hadn’t throttled him yet, but then his tone changed. He started writing about her in a different light.” She swallows, “And I’ve never seen him look at someone like the way he does to her. He… cares deeply for her.”

      Shaking my head, I take a breath, “He kissed her. But it doesn’t mean anything to him anymore. I don’t… I don’t know what to do. They deserve each other, yet Cassandra’s shut herself from him again and he won’t do anything to fix it.”

      Hawke sighs, “Varric is stubborn.” But she smiles, “He kissed her?”

      I nod, “It was very cute.”

      She laughs, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

      Smiling, I look at Cassandra’s form, “I hope they can find a way to care for each other again.”

      “Me too, Inquisitor. After everything Varric’s been through, he deserves someone who loves him.”

      “And his chest hair.”

      “Oh, can’t forget the chest hair.”

      We both laugh and Cassandra stops and turns to us, “The ritual tower is up ahead.”

      I can see it jutting out from the sandy dunes and soon, we arrive. Hawke scans our surroundings as Stroud pushes off the stone archway he leans against, “I’m glad you could make it, Inquisitor. I fear they’ve already started the ritual.”

      “Blood magic, I’d wager,” says Hawke. “You can smell it… or see the corpses. You take point. I’ll guard your backs.”

      Stroud nods and leads us to the tower. We through across a stone pathway, leading to a flight of stairs. Metal statues guard the tower, watching down on us like sentinels. Their faces are twisted and ugly.

      “Tevinter statues,” I whisper. “That one must be you, Dorian.”

      He just shoots me a look.

      But the smell assaults my nostrils—Hawke was right. It smells of death and blood magic. I swallow my nerves down as we continue up the stairs.

      A piles of slaughtered bodies lay on the stairs, discarded and forgotten. I can’t help but stare at them, tears welling up in my eyes. Blood pools around the Grey Warden bodies and I can’t help but want to avenge them.

      Cassandra gently pulls me from the sight and I grip my weapons tighter. 

      Standing along the stone platform is a row of Grey Wardens, with demons obediently staying next to them. Like pets. And more body piles are scattered around.

      A Warden stares at one of the piles, backing away from the group in front of him. Another Grey Warden has his dagger drawn, pointed at the frightened one.

      His lip quivers, “Wait… no.”

      Another man steps forward at the top of a small set of stairs. His red armoured robes glints in the desert sun, his black hair messy and knotted. From his robes, he looks like a Magister, “Warden-Commander Clarel’s orders we’re clear.”

      The helpless Warden turns to the man, “This is wrong!”

      “Remember your oath,” drawls the Magister. “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death…”

      I see the armed Warden step forward, “I’m sorry.” And he thrusts the dagger into the Warden’s back.

      “…Sacrifice.” The man finishes.

      A Rift appears, spewing a rage demon from its maw. Fire courses through its rocky, brown skin and it roars, sliding over to the body of the Warden.

      “Good,” says the Magister. “Now bind it. Just like I showed you.”

      The back-stabbing Grey Warden holds up his hand, green light attracting the rage demon. A flash of light and the demon growls before straightening. The magister lifts his hand, glowing red and the Warden’s eyes change to the same colour. He blinks, those red eyes sending a shiver down my spine. The Warden turns and walks to the edge of the platform, the demon following him.

      I step forward, staring at the Magister.

      He seems to recognize me, “Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyratium,” he bows deeply, “At your service.”

      “You are no Warden,” says Stroud.

      “But you are,” sighs Erimond. “The one Clarel let slip. And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?”

      I look around, taking a breath, “Wardens! This man is lying to you. He serves an ancient Tevinter Magister who wants to unleash a Blight.

      The Wardens turn to me, even their pet demons watch me in interest.

      “That’s a very serious accusation. Let’s see what the Wardens think,” says the Magister. “Wardens, hand up.” Simultaneously, the Magister lifts his hand and the Wardens copy. “Hands down.” And they obey. Erimond gives me a smug smile.

      Stroud steps forward looking at me, “Corypheus has taken their minds.”

      “They did this to themselves. You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified,” explains Erimond. “They looked _everywhere_ for help.”

      “Even Tevinter,” mutters Stroud.

      “Yes,” says the Magister. “And since it was my master who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared. I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together, we come up with a plan… raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

       “Ah, I was wondering when the demon army would show up,” I snap.

      The Magister shifts, almost nervously, “You knew about it, did you? Well then, here you are. Sadly it’s the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They’re now my master’s slaves.” He paces, “This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas.”

      “So Corypheus influenced the Wardens and made them do this ritual?”

      He laughs, “Made them? No, everything you see here? The blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator and they were very afraid.”

       “But why risk using demons?”

      “Demons need no food, no rest, no healing. Once bound, they will never retreat, never question orders. They are the perfect armour to fight through the Deep Roads. Or across Orlais, now that they are bound to my master.”

      “Do you really want to see the world fall to the Blight?” I yell. “What do you get out of this?”

      “The Elder One commands the Blight. He is not commanded by it, like the mindless Darkspawn. The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is simply a tool.”

      Varric gives a soft laugh, “Somebody’s certainly a tool.”

      I nearly fall over, grinning at the Magister, he seems taken aback by Varric’s comment.

      But he gathers himself, “As for me: while the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be his god-kings here in the world.”

      “Release the Wardens from the binding and surrender. I won’t ask twice,” I order.

      “No, you won’t,” his hand shoots out, glowing red.

      A bolt of pain runs through my hand and my mark lights up. I can’t do anything to stop it. My own hand lights up, the mark sparking under his control.

      “The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again.”

      He’s got me in a grip I cannot stop, the pain firing through my veins makes me fall to my knees. I grip my hand but Maker… there’s nothing I can do. Cassandra stands close to me, a hand on my shoulder, her sword pointed at the Magister.                         

      Erimond just laughs, “That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my master. He’s been force to seek other ways to access the Fade.” He throws his hand to his side and the pain shuts off suddenly.

      I get to shaky feet and Stroud gives me a concerned look. But I brush him off.

      Holding my hand in the air, I focus the mark’s energy at the Magister. But he keeps rambling. I can feel the power building up.

      “When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be—”                                               

      I thrust my hand back, an explosion of green blinding me for a second. And I hear Erimond cry out.

      The light fades and the Magister tumbles into a wall. He rubs his head and slowly gets to his feet, holding his stomach. My group have crowded around me, weapons at the ready.

      He turns, “Kill them!” And he limps off, injured.

      The demons around us roar, the Wardens snapping to attention.

      We charge, Cassandra, Stroud and I taking the front line, while Dorian and Varric stay behind us, their ranged attacks picking of Wardens.

      I slice through a demon and dodge its swiping arm. Cassandra takes my place and thrusts her sword into the demon, diverting its attention from me as I drive my two swords into its back. It dissipates with a roar and we move into the next one, slashing and hacking our way through the mass of enemies. I try not to think about killing the Grey Wardens—how they fell under Corypheus’ spell—but I can’t help but think that they’re innocent. But… they did resort to blood sacrifice in the end. It’s only when I drive a sword into a demon that I realise we’ve killed them all.

      I step back, wiping the sweat from my brow.

      Hawke sheaths her long sword, “They refuse to listen to reason.”

      “You were correct. Through their ritual, the mages are salves to Corypheus,” says Stroud.  

      “And the Warden warriors?” We don’t answer and Hawke sighs, “Of course. They were sacrificed in the ritual. What a waste.”

      “Erimond lied to the Wardens,” I say. “They were trying to prevent future Blights.”

      “With blood magic and human sacrifice,” says Hawke.

      “The Wardens were wrong, Hawke. But they had their reasons.”

      Hawke crosses her arms, “All blood mages do. Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions. And it never matters, in the end you are always alone with your actions.”

      “I believe I know where the Wardens are, your Worship. Erimond fled in that direction.” He points to the north, over the dunes. “There’s an abandoned Warden fortress that way. Adamant.”

      “Good thinking,” I say with a nod.

      “The Warden and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there. We’ll meet you back at Skyhold,” says Hawke. She nods to Varric and turns, leaving with Stroud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter my friends!!


	37. Chapter 36

Cassandra and I lean over the stone barrier, watching the people below us. We haven’t spoken in minutes, but we’re comfortable in the silence.

      The Seeker breathes deeply, “Lydia? What are your thoughts about Hawke?”

      I blink, “Hawke? Well… I think she’s quite nice.”

      Cassandra nods, “And?”

      “And… she cares deeply for Varric. A loyal friend. I think she has a big heart.”

      She purses her lips.

      “Do you like her?”

      “I think she is kind, yes. But… it is hard to like her. She was the person we needed who could stop this. And only now she shows up.”

      I nod, “After everything… I understand Cassandra.” I look at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze, “Have you spoken to Varric?”

      She scowls, “He’s too busy drinking himself into a death with Hawke and Iron Bull.”

      “I don’t think he’d do that. He’s pretty stupid, but he wouldn’t die from alcohol poisoning.”

      Her mouth twitches, “He is stupid.”

      I laugh, but the smile soon fades from my face. I grip her shoulder, “Will you ever forgive him?”

      She looks at me, eyes dark, “I do not know.”

      “Maybe a second chance is in order?”

      “I do not give many second chances.”

      “Not even for the hairy chested, muscly armed, dwarf who writes your favourite romance serials?”

      She tilts her head, “Perhaps he is the exception.”

      I grin, “Really?”

      She sighs, “I will think on it. You don’t want Varric and I bickering when we are out scouting. I must think of the bigger picture”

      “And you must think of your heart, Cass. That’s important too.”

      She stares at me for a few seconds before pulling me into a quick hug, “Thank you for helping me, Lydia.”

      I nod, a grin on my face, “Anytime. Perhaps we could head up to the library?” I see her eyes drift to something behind me. “I still haven’t read all the smutty scenes in _Swords &_—”

      “Cullen,” she cuts.

      I cough on my own spit, feeling the blush creep onto my skin. I turn and see the Commander walking towards us. I try to smile, but it comes out like a creepy grin, I’m sure of it.

      The Commander bows his head, “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

      “No,” says Cassandra. “I was just leaving.”

      “You were?” I ask.

      “Oh,” says Cullen.

      Cassandra pushes herself from the barrier and gives me a quick knowing smile before leaving the battlements.

      I look at Cullen, “Would you like to walk?”

      He nods quickly and we begin our quiet walk.

      Did Cassandra leave me to be alone with him? She knows of my feelings… but I didn’t think she’d throw me into the deep end. I swallow, trying to moisten my dry throat.

      My eyes flick over to Cullen, who’s scratching the back of his neck. We’re near his office now and both of us are yet to say a word.

      “It’s… ah… it’s a nice day,” mumbles Cullen.

      “What?” I ask, snapping from my thoughts.

      We stop walking and Cullen doesn’t meet my gaze, “It’s… never mind.”

      I face him, steeling my nerves, “Cullen… now that we’re alone. There’s… something I wish to discuss.”

      “Yes?”

      I look away, not bearing to meet his gaze, “I find myself thinking of you more then… well. All the time really.” The words feels weird in my mouth and I can’t believe I said them out loud. I try to focus on not blushing.   

      “I can’t say I haven’t wondered what it would be like,” comes Cullen’s reply. He walks slowly and I follow him, actually relived he didn’t throw me off the battlements.

      “What’s… stopping you?” I ask. My back is to the stone barrier and Cullen is facing me.

      “You’re the Inquisitor. We’re at war. And you… I didn’t think it was possible,” says Cullen, his chocolate eyes on me. He steps closer.

      “And yet I’m still here,” I say.

      He steps forward again, his armour brushing against my cotton pants. I feel my back press against the stone barrier. But he just smiles, “So you are… it seems too much to ask.” Our faces are only inches apart, “But I want to—” He leans in, and I can feel my stomach clench, nerves rushing through me. His hands are on my hips, gripping softly. I tilt my head, the distant sound of a door opening.

      Cullen’s breath spills along my lips.

      “Commander!”

      I jerk back and Cullen’s hands slip from my hips, turning his head to the source of the interruption.

      I don’t dare look at the scout, out of embarrassment. But I can’t help it, my eyes drift to the scout.

      “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report,” the scout says, not looking up from the piece of parchment.

      Cullen turns to the scout, “What?” His voice is almost a roar.

      I steady myself by placing my hands on the stone barrier.

      “Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.”

      Cullen glares at the scout, no words coming to his lips.

      The scout gives me a look, but I tear my eyes away, not wanting to look at either him or Cullen.

      “Or… to your office… right…” stampers the scout. From the corner of my eye, I can see the scout back away, scurrying back to the office, closing the door behind him.

      I swallow, still not meeting Cullen’s gaze. The idea that we could be together… he’s the Commander and I’m the Inquisitor. There will always be something we have got to do. Something to keep us away from each other.

      I manage to form some words, “If you need to—”

      But I don’t finish my sentence as Cullen’s hand wraps around my neck then to my jaw, closing the gap between us in mere seconds.

      I almost can’t comprehend what’s going on.

      His lips are against mine, stubble scratching my skin, hands holding me firm against the barrier. Maker. My brain has stopped working. And I hardly have time to kiss him back.

      He pulls away, “I’m sorry… that was… um… really nice.” He gives me a small smile.

      I blink, “You… don’t regret it?”

      “No!” he says quickly. But then his expression softens, “No. Not at all.”

      His hands slide to my hips and he leans into another kiss. This time, I don’t care if we’re interrupted. I don’t care if I’m flustered. It’s just him and me. And it’s all I could ever ask for.

     

+++

 

The trip around the Hinterlands was unexpected. Not something I really wanted to do after kissing Cullen this morning. But a Rift appeared near the horse master’s farm and so we ride gallantly towards it to save him and his mounts.

      And of course, our competition continues. Even as the Rift spews out demons, we keep in good spirits, killing the abominations that threaten to destroy this land.

      Soon enough, my mark pulses with power and I thrust my arm back, closing the Rift and stopping anymore demons from walking out of the Fade.

      I let out a laugh, “Seven.”

      “Six,” groans Varric.

      “Ten,” says Dorian, a smirk plastered on his face.                                                      

      Cassandra grunts, “Seven.”

      Dorian lets out a whoop of success, twirling his staff in the air in some kind of dance.

      The three of us exchange looks and Dorian grins, “I win.”

      “Yes. We found that out a few minutes ago,” I say.

      Dorian’s eyebrow rises, a remark on the edge of his lips, but Cassandra gasps. She’s staring at a body, a few metres from the Rift. A wealthy man from his Orlesian attire—hardly what I call armour. Gold coins are scattered around him, but that’s not what gets my attention.

      I walk towards the body and kneel beside it. A giant gush on his back is bloody, staining his clothes. A demon was likely the murderer. My hands come to the chest the man was carrying before his unexpected dismiss. It’s locked, but using one of Varric’s lockpicks, I get it open.

      Lifting the lid, I’m hoping to find clues on our enemies. Maybe they have information about Corypheus, or maybe on the assassination attempt on the Empress. 

      But two swords, curved and made from obsidian, sit neatly in the chest. The note on top of the weapons reads:

 

_Take these to the Inquisition. They’ve been forged for the Herald of Andraste._

 

I blink, “They’re for me?”

      he hilts are wrapped in a black leather, the pommel in the shape of a dragon’s head. The blades are sharp and a smoky grey.

      Taking them from the chest, I weigh them in my hands. Both are balanced in my grip and easy to swipe with. I twirl them in my fingers and suddenly, light fills my eyes. Looking down, I see the blades on _fire_.

      I scream and throw the weapons away before they burn my hands. Dorian splashes water on me and Cassandra tackles me away from the weapons in hopes of protecting me.

      Varric stares at us, “You didn’t read the other side.” He holds up the note, “ _The wielder can summon flames along the blades with a flick of their wrist_.”

      Cassandra scrambles off me and helps me to my feet. I glance at the blades again and scoop them off the ground, “Can they burn me?”

      “Says here that the blade is the only flammable part of the weapon. Your hands won’t get burnt—and you won’t even feel the heat.”

      Dorian snorts, “I’m sure those flames are as hot as your cheeks earlier this morning, Lydia.”

      My eyes flash to him, “What?”

      “Oh nothing. I was just saying what a nice day it was. Too bad it was _interrupted_.”

      I cough, “Dorian, what are you talking about?”

      He just keeps smirking and even Varric is grinning.

      “How was the Commander? I hear he’s a very good kisser.”

      My eyes widen and I scream, the weapons dropping from my grip. I rush over to him, “Who told you?”

      Dorian lays a hand on my shoulder, “No one. I saw it all.”

      “What? There was no one on the battlements.”

      “Well, I was watching from my tower. It was quite a good kiss, might I say. Not your first, but certainly one of your best.”

      I growl in frustration.

      “Bull has decided to have celebratory drinks tonight. We’ve told everyone.”

      My eyes nearly budge from my head, “You did what?” My voice echoes through the valley and I can feel the heat on my cheeks.

      Varric chuckles, “I should write a book about it.”

      “Don’t you dare,” I snap. “Who else knows?”

      “Everyone… even Vivienne.”

      Turning to Cassandra, I see her smiling, “You know too, I’m guessing.”

      “It is only fair to know each other’s secrets.”

      “Ah yes, I heard about your little smooch too,” says Dorian, eyeing Varric and Cassandra. He holds up a hand and I slap it in celebration.

      Now it’s Cassandra’s turn to glare, “Lydia?”

      I bolt for my horse, Cassandra hot on my heels.

      “You told him?” she yells.

      I laugh manically, “Maybe.”

     

+++

 

Bull grins at me, a drink held high in the air, “To Lydia, for finally getting some action after everything she’s been through.”

      “Yay me,” I say, holding my own drink in the air.

      That night, we drink until the early hours. Though we celebrate my kiss, there’s the threat of Adamant hanging over all of us.

      It will be the fight of our lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOoohh yeah!! They’ve finally kissed. I am a sucker for slow romance, so sorry if it seemed a little too slow for some of you! But, the romance will be kicking off soon and the smut will come. (Oh Maker, I have no clue how to write that!) Up next, the preparation for Adamant… Stay groovy my children.


	38. Chapter 37

My inner circle stand in a line and we are examined by Harrit, Harding, Dagna, Josephine, Cullen and Leliana. We are all dressed in our tunics and pants—no armour to Cassandra’s distress.

      Harrit grunts, “We’ve been slaving away in the Undercroft for weeks now. Finally they’re ready.”

      Dagna nods, “I didn’t slave away for nothing.”

      Josephine steps forward, clearing her throat, “It has been decided that you will each be receiving new armour. This is a first step in preparing for Adamant, as we will need all of you to fight.”

      And so we are each given a new set of armour, tailored to our abilities and preferences. Varric’s armour is sleeved (though Cassandra may not be too happy about that). I’m the last to change, and when I come out, Varric whistles, “Looking good Stumbles.”

      Harding wraps a leather pouch around my waist, multiple sheaths for pocket knives—something I’ve wanted for a long time.

      I grin at Harding, “These will be put to good use.”

      “Just don’t lose them,” comes her smug reply.

      Glancing at my companions, I see everyone grinning at me, even Leliana. Morale has certainly approved with everyone looking fresh.

      Cassandra adjusts her buckles and grins at me. She’s finally gotten rid of her old dented armour. Though it looks exactly the same. Varric’s eyes roll over her body, taking in her figure. Dorian shoots me a look.

      Josephine smiles, “You are all free to go, if you please.”

      “What about you, Josie?” I ask. “Are you getting armour? I’m sure you’d look great in it.” My eyes flick to Leliana.

      Josephine coughs, “Oh, no. I would not even be able to stand.”

      Leliana cocks her head, “Light armour would be just a heavy as those ruffles you wear all day.”

      Josephine blushes, “Well, perhaps.”

      “No,” says Leliana. “I will not have you fighting. You could get hurt.”

      Josephine just nods, “Yes. Good idea.” She waves us off to our chores.

      Bull and Dorian head off together, leaving Varric without a drinking buddy. But Krem slaps a hand on his shoulder, “Care for a drink?”

      “I never thought you’d ask,” says Varric.

      I turn to Cassandra, “Library?”

      She nods.

      “Lydia Trevelyan and Cassandra Pentaghast. Don’t think you can get out of your duties,” says Josephine. “You are needed in the war room.”

      A groan escapes my throat, but Cullen gives me a smile and I think it may actually be fun to have meetings now.

      We grudge towards the war room together, Cassandra grunting in unison with me.

 

      We’ve only been talking for ten minutes before the arguing begins.

      I rub my temples, sighing. As much as a new set of armour makes me happy, there is still the issue of what is actually going to happen at Adamant.

      Standing at the war table, Cassandra shakes her head, “It would be best to storm the fortress. This time, no stealth.”

      “Agreed,” says Cullen. “It’s the only way we’re going to get through those gates. Secrecy may have worked for Redcliffe, but it won’t here.”

      I cough, trying to rid the thoughts of that dark future.

      “Some of my scouts could at least try to slip inside,” says Leliana.

      “No. A full frontal attack will be the best option,” I say. “We don’t know Adamant as well as Redcliffe castle.”

      Cullen nods, “Stroud may know of the fortress, but he doesn’t know of any secret passages.”

      Leliana bows her head, “As you wish.”

      “The Chargers will help too,” I say.

      Cassandra glances at me then to the advisors, “When do we begin the attack.”

      Josephine swallows, “In two days’ time.”

      I cough, “Oh Maker. Are our troops ready?”

      “As ready as they’ll ever be,” nods Cullen.                                                                 

      I press my lips together, “It would be best to break the news to my companions then.”

      “They’ve already been informed,” says Josephine. “But it would be best to… spend time with them. It may be they last fight.”

      Cullen and I meet eyes and I nod, “Wicked Grace tonight?”

      Josephine smirks, “Is that really such a good idea?”

     

 

+++

 

The table is rowdy tonight, but none of us have even had a drink yet. The whole group is here—even Solas has appeared from his office to join us. Hawke sits beside Varric, chatting to him with a grin on her face. Just like old times, Varric would say.

      Sera shushes us, spit flying from her mouth, “Let’s play strip Wicked Grace!”

      “Ugh.”

      “No,” says Josephine.

      “Yes!” booms Bull.

      The yelling continues as to what game we’re going to play tonight. I share a glance with Cullen, but an idea sparks in my mind.

      I hold my hand up at the mark glows, filling the room is a green glow. The shouts die down and everyone looks at me, “Truth or dare.”

      That gets me a grin from Bull and a cackle from Sera.

      “And,” I say, closing my fist. “If you refuse, you have to take a drink.”

      “Oh this is going to be good,” says Dorian.

      Tankards are filled, butts are settled on the seats and everyone watches me to make the first move.

      I clear my throat and take a sip of my ale, “Varric, you’re first. Truth or dare?”

      Varric coughs, “Stumbles, somehow I knew you’d pick me. Dare.”

      Biting my lip, I wrack my brain for a good challenge. Easy to start off with, “You’ve got to stand for the rest of the night.”

      Varric’s eyebrows shoot up, “Fine.” He pushes the chair from under him and stands, hands resting on the table, “Bull, you’re next.”

      The Qunari huffs, “Dare.”

      Varric grins, “A mix of drinks. Everyone has to pour some of their drink into your cup and you’ve got to drink.”

      Bull grins as everyone pours in their liquor. Once the tankard is full, he sculls the drink down and slams the cup on the table. “Ah, sweet and tangy.” His eyes flick to Krem.                                                                                                                                  

      “Truth,” says Krem.

      “I hear you have a crush on someone Krem,” Bull grins.

      Krem’s face falls. His eyes flick around the room and back to Bull.

      “Who is it?”

      Krem drinks.   
      “Ah, come on!”

      “Maybe later chief.” Krem says.

      More questions and dares are sent around the room, when Varric’s eyes land on me, “Truth or dare, Stumbles?”

      I swallow, “Truth.”

      Varric grins, “How was Curly’s kiss? We still never got an answer from you.”

      All eyes turn to me and I see Cullen sink into his chair.

      Sera laughs, “The Quizzy’s snogging the Commander?”

      I cough, “It was… a nice kiss.”

      “And?” prompts Varric.

      “And… he was very good.”

      No one says anything.

      “And I really enjoyed it,” I finish. “There.” My eyes scan the room and settle on Dorian. “My dear Dorian, truth or dare.”

      He smiles, “Truth, dear friend.”

      I grin, “What’s your favourite position with Bull?”

      The mage glares at me and takes a drink, “Sorry. But there are some things kept between us. After you all walked in, I deserve some privacy.”

      Sera tilts her head, “Bet it’s the position where you can get a good view of Bull’s pe—”

      “Cassandra,” says Dorian.

      The Seeker’s eyes snap up, watching Dorian, “Truth.”

      “Seeker of Truth,” I say. “Who knew she’d pick that.” Sera and I cackle at each other.

      “Ugh.”

      “So,” begins Dorian. “Have you and Varric made up yet, perhaps a little action in the bedroom?”

      “No.”

      Dorian’s eyebrows shoot up, “That’s it?”

      “Yes.”

      “Well then, would you like it to happen?”

      “His thing and her thing, _doing_ things?” asks Sera.

      Cassandra’s face is a mask, but I can see her jaw line tighten. Her knuckles are white around her tankard. If she says no, it might hurt Varric’s feelings—certainly breaking off their fragile relationship. If she says yes… Maker, I don’t want to think about how happy Dorian and I would be.

      Her eyes flick to me then to Dorian, “Perhaps.”

      Wrong choice.

      I grin, “Oh? Really?”

      “I’m glad to hear that,” says Dorian, watching me. I can’t keep the smile from my face.  

      Cassandra rolls her eyes, looking at the table, “Cullen, your turn.”

      Cullen sits straighter, “Yes… ah. Dare.”

      Cassandra’s lips twitch into a smile, “Kiss Lydia.”

      That sneaky little—

      Soft lips press against mine before I can shoot Cassandra a look. When Cullen pulls away, he smiles at me, a blush on his cheeks, “Easy…”

      The table erupts into hoots and shouts.

      And so we continue on, passing questions and dares between each other. It’s been a few rounds since I’ve heard Cassandra speak, but a knowing look from Sera tells me the Seeker is about to receive another question.

      Sera jigs up and down on the spot. After losing her tunic and pants (yet again) she waits for Cassandra’s answer.

      “Truth,” says the Seeker.

      “Truth again, you’re boring?” She flicks me a look and I grin at her. She bites her lip, “Rose! No, wait. Robin’s egg?”

      Cassandra’s brow furrows, “What are you talking about?”

      “Trying to guess the colour of your underpants.”

      Her face completely blank, Cassandra blinks slowly, “I don’t wear underpants.”

      “Pfft! Everyone hear that?” Sera bursts out into laughter.

      My face drops and I look at Cassandra, “Is that true?”

      “Perhaps.”

      I grin, “Good one.”

      I lose track of time as we play and it’s honestly been one of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in a long time. We’ve began to break off the game, instead chatting quietly amongst ourselves. Though it’s the later hours of the night, we’re still here, a group brought together in circumstances out of our control. But we’re like a family.

      Blackwall tilts his head at Sera, “You never finished that tale about how you were elbow deep in… circumstance.” The group turn to the conversation, wanting to get the details of the story we’ve only heard half of.

      “That wasn’t her name.”

       Blackwall clears his throat, “Ah. Nevermind.” He stares at the fire, his cup in his hands.

      Sera watches him, “Look at you, all serious. What do Warden’s do when there’s not Blight anyway?”

      Blackwall blinks, “Whatever it takes to keep the world safe.”

      “Like join Inquisitions? Though this one’s pretty cool, yeah?”

      The Warden nods, “If that’s what it takes. Hey, you’re here too.”

      Sera giggles, “The Inquisition can’t be all broody beards like you and Cassandra. Isn't that right Quizzy?”

      I nod, “That’s right.”

      Blackwall looks at Cassandra then back to Sera, “She doesn’t have the hair for it.”

      Sera grins, “Oh, I’d bet she does. Places.”

      I spit my drink out, spraying the plate in front of me.

      Cassandra glares at Sera, “That’s enough!”

      Sera cackles, “Knew it.”

      A laugh escapes my throat as I try to mop up my drink from the table.

      Cassandra watches me, “I am not helping you.”

      Varric throws me a piece of cloth and I wipe up my dribble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, it’s actually quite hard coming up with things to say for truth or dare, but I hope I did alright! I just thought a nice little group gathering would be something they’ve do before Adamant. Next chapter has Cullen and Lydia scenes, but then I’ll be moving onto Adamant Fortress :O But, stay groovy.


	39. Chapter 38

Cullen and I ride together, my black stallion walking slowly next to his own mare. We leave to assault Adamant tomorrow and with a two days trek to the Western Approach, it’s the only time we’ll have together.

      “So,” I say, turning to him. “The Commander of the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste. It’s certainly gotten people talking.

      He sighs, “Gossip has spread quickly.”

      “Does that… bother you?”

      “I would rather my—our—private affairs remain that way. But, if there were nothing here for people to talk about, I would regret it more.”

      I swallow, “That… that day on the battlements when you kissed me. How long had you wanted to do that?” I may as well get it off my chest now.

      He laughs softly, “Longer than I should admit.”

      I look up with a start, his chocolate eyes meeting mine, “You don’t have much patience for nobility. I’m glad my title didn’t scare you away…”

      “I hadn’t considered… I have no title outside the Inquisition,” says Cullen. “I hope that doesn’t—I mean, _does_ it… bother you?”

      I blink, “Maker, no! If you care for me, that’s all that matters. I wasn’t trying to put you on the spot.”

      Cullen looks away, “I’m not very good at this, am I? If I seem unsure, it’s because it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone in my life. I wasn’t expecting to find that here. Or you.”

      I can’t help but smile, “Nor I.”

      Cullen smirks at me.

      “You know, I was thinking of becoming a Templar,” I say.

      “You were?”

      “My family is very devoted to Andraste, we were to work for the Chantry once we were old enough. I didn’t want to be a Cleric, so I was set on becoming a Templar.”

      Cullen nods, “A very noble choice.”

      “But when the war broke out, I didn’t know if I wanted that anymore. Going to the Conclave was my first initiation to try for peace… and look how that turned out.”

      Cullen laughs softly, “I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

      Heat rises to my cheeks, “Who knew a disaster like that could have brought me to someone I care for.”

      We sit in silence for a little longer.

 “So, I must tell you why I dragged you away from the library. I… thought it would be best to explain when we get there.”

      He leads our horses from the brick path and down along a small game trail. The grey clouds overhead darken our surroundings.

      After dismounting and tying our horses to a tree, we walk towards some kind of lake. Cullen stays close to me and I can feel his cold armour against my skin.

      “Where are we?” I ask.

      We come to a small dock on the bank of the lake, an empty fishing net abandoned at the edge.

      “You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that. If only for a moment.”

      Lily pads rest of the surface of the still lake and it is very tranquil, I must admit.

      “I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet,” he says, leaning against the wooden pole.

      I look at him, “Did you come here often?”

      “I loved my siblings, but they were very loud. I would come here to clear my head. Of course, they always found me eventually.”

      I smile, “Sounds like my own brothers.”

      He smiles, looking at over the lake.  
      “You were happy here?” I ask.

      He looks at me, “I was. I still am.”

      “It’s very beautiful, Cullen.” I step right to the edge of the dock, watching my boots touch the surface of the lake.

      “The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training,” he holds up a hand, a silver coin in his palm. “My brother gave me this, it just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our faith should see us through.”

      I laugh, “You broke the Order’s rules? I’m shocked.”

      “Until a year ago, I was very good at following them. Most of the time.” He gazes at the coin, “This was the only thing I took from Fereldan that the Templars didn’t give me.

      I smile.

      Gloved hands wrap around mine, warm and strong. I look into Cullen’s eyes and he smiles, “Humor me.” I can feel the coin pressed into my own palm. “We don’t know what you’ll face before the end. This can’t hurt.”

      “I’ll keep it safe,” I say, closing a fist around the coin.

      “Good,” says Cullen. His hand comes to my side, “I know it’s foolish, but… I’m glad.” His forehead presses gently against mine and my hands come to grip his elbows.

      He’s very gentle, his soft lips pressing against mine, mouth slanted.

      The kiss is less heated than our first one. But it seems like we’ve got all the time in the world.

      If only that were truly the case.

                                                                                                                                             

+++

 

My fingers play with the coin Cullen had given me. With hope it will bring us luck today. Last night, I had forged a small hole in the coin and slid it onto my necklace, so it dangles beside my Halla.

      Varric and Hawke stand outside the war room, up bright and early. Leliana had wanted an early start for the troops to begin their march to Adamant.

      We’ll be leaving after our meeting.

      Tucking the necklace under my armour, I watch the pair talk quietly together. Varric is leaning against the wall, Hawke standing in front of him.

      “Thanks for coming,” mumbles Varric. 

      “You did well Varric. The Inquisitor is just who we need.”

      “Ah, it’s been great. Murderous Wardens, Archdemon attacks, plenty of blood mages and crazy Templars. Just like home.”

      “I know how much you hated leaving Kirkwall.”

      “This is the ass end of Thedas. You know that eat snails here, still, I… ah. I think I need to finish out. If it weren’t for me and Bartrand, none of this would have happened.”

      I frown. This wasn’t his fault—it was something out of our control.

      “So much for changing our lives,” he mumbles.

      “That’s what happens when you try to change things Varric. Things change. You can’t always control how.”

      Varric bows his head.

      Hawke places a hand on his shoulder, “And you can’t tell me everything’s been bad. How about Stumbles? A new nickname I hear.”

      Varric’s eyes flick to me as I come to stand beside them.

      Grinning, I nod at him, “And how I got you to swim.”

      Hawke coughs, “You managed to get him in the water? I’m impressed.”

      “It was only so he could show off his chest hair.”

      “Oh? To anyone in particular?”

      I grin, “The Seeker maybe?”

      Varric rolls his eyes, “Maker’s tits.”

      Hawke and I share a look and she nods, agreeing him me.

      “You’re blushing.”

      “I am not,” he snaps.

       Hawke smiles and looks at me, “They’re looking at the finishing touches for assault options now.”

      “I guess I’ll see you soon, ready for Adamant. Varric, get ready, you’re in my team.”

      “With the Seeker and Sparkler?”

      “Think of it as a first date, just with Dorian and I in the background, helping you… while we fight demons.” I push the war room doors open before I get a reply.

      Leliana, Cullen and Josephine stand at the table, ready.

      The Spymaster nods at me, “Adamant Fortress has stood against the Darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight.”

      Cullen turns to me, “Fortunately for us, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. As we discussed before, storming the fortress will be our best option. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls. And thanks to our Lady Ambassador…”

      Josie bows her head, “Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They’ve already delivered the trebuchets and march with our troops now.”

      “So, we’ll meet our army there?”

      “They will be setting up away from the fortress. You will meet them there and storm the castle,” confirms Josephine.

      “That is the good news,” says Leliana.

      “And the bad news?” I dare to ask.

      “Erimond called the ritual at the Western Approach a test. He may already be raising him army of demons in the fortress.”

      “The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons…” starts Cullen. 

      “I found records of Adamant’s construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle,” says Leliana.

      “That’s good,” nods Cullen. He looks at me, “We may not be able to defeat them outright… but if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel.”

      “It sounds like our best option,” I say with a nod.

      “It will be hard fought, no way around it. But we’ll get that gate open,” says Cullen.

      Josephine looks up from her board, “It’s also possible that some Warden’s may be sympathetic to our cause.”

      Lady Montilyet, always looking on the bright side.

      Leliana turns to her friend, “The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, though I doubt they will turn against Clarel directly.” She glances at me, “The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death.”

      “We’re ready Inquisitor. Give the word and the rest of us will march to Adamant,” says Cullen.

      I grin, “Let’s go kill us some demons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for Adamant!! AH god, that should be fun! But I hope you enjoyed the little lake scene with Cullen. I always thought that was one of the best scenes in the romance! Stay groovy and sorry about the mess up!


	40. Chapter 39

The shouts of the Inquisition roar around me as we assault the fortress. The trebuchets fire against the ancient stone, fire billowing throughout the fortress. Battle cries echo through the sandy dunes around us.

      The night is lit up with the burning boulders and the torches, making it easier to see, though the full moon certainly helps lighting up our battlefield. A horn echoes across the desert as the Inquisition marches, our soldiers trying to breach the gates.

      Then the ladders go up. Scouts cling to the wooden ladders as they are pushed against the high walls, hoping to cut through the enemies along the battlements. But the Wardens fight back, sending burning arrows towards our scouts.

      Some fall to the deaths, others impaled by the arrows. But for every Inquisition scout that dies, two take their place on the battlements.

      In front of us is the Battering Fist—a mighty siege weapon made for crushing doors. And that’s what we hope it will do.

      As soldiers push the giant weapon towards the barred doors, others hold their wooden shields above their heads as the Wardens begin throwing small boulders towards us. Dorian, Vivienne and Solas use their barriers as best as they can to stop the boulders, but their magic can only do so much.                                                                

      One scout steps out of the barrier’s range to steer the siege weapon, but a boulder hits him in the head before he can drive it. Blood spurts from the back of his head.

      The scouts shout in unison, driving the golden fist against the wooden doors. The siege weapon pounds against the doors with the strength of the Inquisition scouts and in a few hits, they manage to splinter the doors. Through cracks in the doors, I can see Grey Wardens trying to hold the fortress.

      But the Inquisition is overrunning them.

      My knuckles are white from gripping my swords and a hand clamps down on my shoulder. I look up into Cassandra’s hazel eyes and she gives me a nod.

      The yells around us block out any comforting words, but at least I know she has my back. No matter how sour this turns.

      A loud crack makes me turn and I see the gates smash open, Wardens crushed by the debris.

      I walk through the destroyed gates as scouts pour in, bearing down on demons and Wardens alike.

      Fires lick along the walls, bodies litter the ground and smoke fills the air. It’s something out of a nightmare.

      We’re in the lower bailey from the looks of things, though vision is low from the smoke. Joining the Inquisition forces, we begin securing the gate. My blades twirl through the air, blood splashing against the sand as Wardens fall.

      A demon slaps out me, but I rip through it with strength I hardly knew I had.

      It’s hardly a feat with the amount of allies, but we secure the gate.

      A fiery boulder passes overhead, smashing into the battlements. A Warden peeks his head over the stone barrier, “Pull back! They’re through.” And he bolts from our sight deeper into the fortress.

      Cullen comes to stand next to me, “All right, Inquisitor. You have your way in. Best make use of it.”

      I nod.

      “We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

      “Be careful, Cullen,” I say softly. “I’ll be fine. Just keep the men safe.”

      “We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor. Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She’s assisting them until you arrive.”  
      A scream makes us both look up in time to see an Inquisition scout fall from the high battlements, pushed by a demon. He lands with a sickening thud on the sand below.

      Cullen winces, “There’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.” His expression softens and he squeezes my hand before rushing back to his soldiers.

      I turn to my group, “Vivienne, Blackwall and Sera stay here and keep this gate secure. Solas, Bull and Cole, I need you to clear out the various hallways around here. Maker knows how many Wardens and demons are hiding around them.”  
      They nod, running to their positions. No one comments on my orders—not even Sera can make a snarky remark to cheer us up in this battle.

      Iron Bull sends a look to the Chargers and they nod, Krem leading them to another part of the fortress. Harding gives me a small smile before heading off with them, her scouts trailing behind her.

      So Dorian, Varric, Cassandra and I continue through the fortress. The sand beneath our feet is soft and I’ve got to be careful where I tread so I don’t trip.

      Reaching an archway with a small flight of stairs, we come across more Wardens. Cassandra barrels through them, scattering the warriors so the rest of us can pick them off.

      My mind is set on helping the soldiers on the battlements and I hardly register that we’ve taken down the group of Wardens.

      Stroud takes in the bodies of his fellow Wardens and sighs sadly.

      We continue on, heading across a bridge with a trebuchet stone stuck on the edge of it. I squint at the inscription on the stone surface and I read it out loud, “ _All who walk in the sight of the Maker are one_ … and someone else has written _stick this up your taint, Blighty_.” I laugh, “Sounds like something Sera would write.”

      Varric chuckles, “Well, it certainly worked.” He tilts his head and I follow his gaze. Crushed under the stone is a Grey Warden.

      I wince, “Let’s keep moving. We’ve still got to get to the battlements.” 

      Pushing a metal door open, we enter into the main bailey of the fortress. The coppery smell of blood fills my nostrils, the air polluted with smoke.

      The five of us round a landing, the clang of weapons filling the air.

      “Stay back!” The man’s voice cuts through the yells and shouts around us. “We will not be sacrificed for some insane ritual.”

      Cassandra and I share a look before rushing down the sandy steps. Warden spell casters have trapped Warden soldiers into a dead end. Crates and boxes are stacked on top of each other at the edge of the balcony. But the soldiers have nowhere to go.

      Dorian sends an ice bolt through one of the spell casters, but the magic just bounces of his ward. I pull two pocket knives from my vest, flicking my wrists towards to spell casters. The small knives embed themselves into the Warden’s throats.

      Yet the mages keep pressing towards the soldiers. Cassandra’s shield comes up just in time to block a bolt of lightning and I spin from the attack’s path, my swords twirling through the air.

      “Brothers, can’t you see, this is madness!” pleas the soldier, but the mages don’t listen.                                                                                                                                   

      A well-aimed bolt pierces through the last spell caster’s skull and he falls to the ground, his mouth open in a silent scream.

      I sheath my weapons, breathing heavily.

      “Keep your distance,” says the Warden soldier. His face is stern, his sword held out in front of him. The surviving Wardens stay close to him.

      I hold up my hands, in hopes to build some trust, “The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won’t be harmed.”

      The Warden regards me coldly, but then his face softens, “Alright. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must.”

      I nod in thanks and send a silent prayer to the Maker. Not all Wardens want this. That’s a small mercy.

 

I’m panting as we move up more stairs to a higher part of the fortress. The sounds of fighting is louder hear, but the battlements are still too high up to see anything. As we walk briskly along the level, Dorian has his staff ready, Varric has already notched a bolt and Cassandra has her sword and shield ready to cleave through a demon or Warden.

      I swallow, “We’re going well guys.”

      Dorian smiles, “Of course. Did you think we wouldn’t be?”

      “No. I just wanted to break the awkward silence.” I turn to grin at him as we round a corner. But instead or returning my grin, his face turns to horror, staff swirling around his body.

      I feel the sharp talons ripping across my arm. I spin, retreating from my attacker.

      The shade growls at me and I see its body tense, ready to attack me again. But an icy shard shoots through its face and it dissolves to sludge.                                             

      I let out a breath, but more demons slide towards us and this time I’m ready for them. Cassandra and I draw the demons attention from Varric and Dorian. My blade slices through an arm, but the demon hisses and continues its assault. In the moonlight, the twisted features of the creatures make my blood run cold.

      Cassandra slices through the last demon as it screams in fury. Its body dissipates to goo, the scream dying with the creature.

      The Seeker turns to me and holds my arm, “Your armour took most of the damage…”

      Three claw marks are slashed across my forearm. The armour protected me from any serious damage, but now my scaled armour is wrecked. I sigh, “I’ll by fine.” Blood trickles down my arm.

      Urging the others on, we continue.                                                                              

      I glance around and spot wooden stairs, “There. That’s the way to the battlements.” We take two at a time and finally reach the battlements.

       A fiery boulder streaks through the night sky as we run across the partly destroyed battlement.

      “This is a mess,” I hear Varric say.

      My arm’s stinging, our scouts and soldiers are dying around us, an ancient Grey Warden fortress is crumbing under our feet and my inner circle are scattered around and I have no clue if they’re alright or not.

      But I forge through as I spot a group of Inquisition scouts fighting demons and Wardens. A rage demon turns out our arrival, roaring in fury. But, Cassandra and I are on it in a second, Dorian and Varric covering us.

      Blood splatters against the stones and I yank a throwing knife from my vest and fling it towards a Warden spell caster.

      “Clear,” yells Varric.

      Pushing forwards, I examine our position. It seems as though the Inquisition were able to set up choke points along the battlements, with barriers blocking various paths. Which is good. We need all the help we can get.

      A wooden ramp leads to a small interior room, with a few desks scattered around. Papers lie strewn across the floor, small fires burning in the corners. A body lies mutilated, hands seemingly reaching for the sword lying only a few metres away.

      None of us speak. There’s nothing to be said about the destruction. I try to tell myself the Warden brought this upon themselves. But they were scared, the Calling was going to make them all perish.

      I grip my swords tighter and push on.

 

Screaming through gritted teeth, I spin, dodging an attack. Another Pride demon.

      We’ve faced a whole range of demons, but these ones certainly are the worst.

      “Die bastards,” yells Hawke. “And take your demons with you!”

      Surviving Warden’s surround the Pride demon, but they’re tired. And so are we. Hawke has managed to stay with us to clear out the siege points Cullen had told us to target. This is our last one and I’m not dying because of a Pride demon.

      I’m too prideful for that.

      But there’s too many of them…

      A fist comes to smack against Cassandra’s eye and she stumbles back, trying to block the Warden’s next attack. Varric struggles to get distance between him and his enemies, a sword coming to cut his cheek. Dorian grunts in pain as the Pride demon’s spiked elbows rip against his legs, tearing his robes. But the demon is focused on me, dark eyes watching my every move.

      Hawke is on one knee, fending off a Warden with her shield.

      I scream. It’s the only way. I won’t let them die now, not when we’ve come so far.

      The power tugs at my palm, the mark glowing green. I thrust my hand into the air and feel as the Rift is ripped open. Tendrils shoot out and wrap around the remaining Wardens. Their screams pierce my ear as they’re pulled violently into the Rift. The Pride demon takes a thunderous step towards me and a growl passes its lips. But a green rope wraps around its torso and sucks it through the Rift.

      I pull my hand back, the mark closing the Rift and I stumble back. My vision blackens and my arms feel like lead.

      My knees crumble and I fall to the ground, dry heaving.

      I hear shouts, but they’re too fuzzy to work out. Then I see Hawke’s face close to mine. She holds my chin and puts a water skin to them. And I drink. The water is so refreshing, it’s like I’ve never had a drink before.

      It takes a few minutes before I regain my strength and when I finally open my eyes, my team stand around me, “Thank you.”

      Hawke smiles, “That was impressive.”

      “Remind me never to do it again.”

      She laughs and helps me to my feet.

      Varric holds my arm, “You okay, Stumbles?”

      I nod, taking another gulp of water, “I’m great Varric.”

      Stroud nods, “It was very impressive.”

      “Thank you.”

      Once my head feels better, I take another sip of water and nod at my team. We continue, with Hawke in tow, to find Warden-Commander Clarel.

      After traversing down a sandy flight of stairs, run across a sandy hallway with wooden scaffolding. A Warden lies on the floor, his head crushed by a stone brick. I swallow and keep moving.

      Cassandra pushes the metal door open and we’re met by demons. A shade pushes her and she stumbles, but Varric’s there to wrap his arms around her before she falls. They stay embraced for a few seconds of confusion before pushing away from each other and stringing into the battle with the rest of us. We’re at the edge of the fortress, a balcony poking out, high above the sandy ground.

      Inquisition scouts rush to our aid, and we soon outnumber the amount of demons. But they’re strong, their demon hides thicker than normal.

      I thrust a sword into one demon and pull, but the blade’s stuck deep in the demon’s skin. I yank again, yet the blade still doesn’t pull free. The demon bucks around, its arms flinging through the air as it tries to release me from its back. I hold tight, boots scraping against the ground.

      A sword cleaves the demon in two and my own blade pulls free from the demons body as it melts. I fall to the ground with a grunt and see Cassandra standing over me. Her jaw line is outlined in the fire light, but her hazel eyes shine down at me and she smiles, “Having some trouble?”

      I hold out my hand and she takes it. With a pull, she brings me to my feet, “No. I simply wanted to lay down. You should try it one time.”

      “Ugh.” She says with a small smile.

      Hawke looks around, “How many of them are there?”

      “Fewer, thanks to you,” says a scout. “Hawke saved a lot of lives on the battlements, Inquisitor.”

      I nod at Hawke, “Thank you.”

      “Not all the Wardens have stood against us,” says Stroud. “Maker willing, we may be able to reason with Clarel.”

      “Commander Cullen will hold a path open for us as long as possible, Inquisitor.”

      At the mention of his name, my heart skips a beat.

      “Our forces are ready when you are,” says the scout.

      I nod, “Let’s go.”

     

     

+++

 

Wardens and demons stand around the clearing, looking up at the stage where Erimond and a Warden-Commander stand. Warden-Commander Clarel.

      To the left of the clearing is a raised stone platform with a Rift swirling above it. Closed, but ready to be opened. Wardens keep guard there, making sure no debris falls near them.

      None of the Wardens have spotted us yet and I wave for my group to stop, to watch what happens.

      Clarel paces along the stage, “Wardens, we are the betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect.” With her shaved head, Warden armour and a staff at her back, she certainly seems like a force to be reckoned with. Maker, help us all.

      Erimond strides forward, “The Inquisitor is inside, Clarel. We have no time to stand in ceremony. 

      Clarel’s expression hardens, “These men and women are giving their lives, Magister. That might mean little in Tevinter, but for the Wardens, it is a sacred duty.” She turns as a Warden steps forward, his old features shadowed in the fire light.

      She nods, “It has been many long years, my friend.”

      The old Warden bows, “Too many, Clarel. If my sword arm can no longer serve the Wardens, then my blood will have to do.” He straightens.

      Clarel simply walks behind him, taking a dagger and slowly placing it to his throat. Her lips are close to his ear, but I hear her words, “It will.” Her eyes are darkened, not by the shadows, but by… sadness. They snap shut as she slices the knife across his neck.

      My hand shoots out, finding the nearest thing to hold onto. It’s Cassandra’s hand. But she doesn’t pull away, she only squeezes my own hand back.

      The old Warden’s body falls to the ground, a seemingly never ending fountain of blood spewing from the gush in his throat.

      I gulp and rush forward. It’s time to stop this once and for all.

      Erimond snaps to attention when he sees us rush into the clearing, “Stop them! We must complete the ritual.”

      Stopping the others from attacking, I walk forward. My legs seem to carry me on my own accord and I clench my hands to try and stop the shaking.

      Wardens begin to stand around the Rift, protecting it. But I’m after Clarel, not the Rift.

      “Clarel,” I yell, willing my voice to stay strong. “If you complete that ritual, you’re doing exactly want Erimond wants.”

      “What, fighting the Blight?” retorts Erimond. “Keeping your world safe from Darkspawn? Who wouldn’t want that?”

      But Clarel watches me, her expression softening.

      “And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty.”

      Clarel steps forward, “We make the sacrifices no one else will. Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them.”

      “And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus,” shouts Stroud.

      “Corypheus?” gasps Clarel. “But he’s dead.”

      Erimond leans towards Clarel, “These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel.”

      The Warden-Commander is conflicted though. She runs a hand over her temple, thinking over things.

      I prayer to the Maker she’ll see reason.

      She opens her eyes, “Bring it through.”

      And my heart shatters.

      The Wardens surrounding the closed Rift, pour their magic into the green mist and I’m hopeless.

      The Rift opens in a flash of light and it shifts as it hovers in the air.

       I begin to walk towards the Wardens, shock coursing through my veins. We have to stop them. No matter what.

      “Please,” shouts Hawke. “I’ve seen more than my share of blood magic. It is never worth the cost.”

      “I trained half of you myself,” says Stroud. “Do not make me kill you to stop this madness.”

      A roar echoes through the clearing and the Rift pulses.

      “Be ready with the ritual, Clarel. This demon is truly worthy of you strength.”

      “The Grey Wardens have a proud history!” I yell, stopping myself from attacking them. “You stopped the Blight at the Silent Plains. At Starkhaven… and Hunter Fell. At Ayesliegh and Denerim.” I had read all about the Blights when I was a child. “This world owes you a debt it can never repaid. I would not stand against you if I did not _know_ you were being misused.”

      The Wardens glance at each other, muttering amongst themselves. Then they turn to Clarel, waiting for her response. She’s lost for words.

      “Clarel, we have come so far. You’re the only one who can do this,” says Erimond.

      “Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed,” says Clarel.

      “Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally,” says Erimond, walking to the edge of the stage. “My master thought you might come here. He sent me this to welcome you.”

      He taps his staff against the stone floor, red light sparking around it.

      A screech fills the air and I turn to see the dragon—the Archdemon flying towards the fortress. It opens its mouth and we scatter, missing the red fire that shoots from its maw.

      The dragon banks, destroying one of the statues with its tail, before coming to land on the parapets.

      It roars again, sending a chill through my blood.

      The familiar fear begins to set deep into my brain. The same dragon had nearly killed me at Haven.

      A grunt and a yell of pain pulls my attention towards the couple of the stage. A bolt of lightning hits Erimond in the back and he sprawls across the floor.

      Clarel edges towards the injured Magister, her hand lighting up in purple lightning.

      “Clarel,” pleas Erimond. “Wait…” He holds a hand out to defend himself.

      But the Warden-Commander doesn’t listen. She throws a bolt of magic at the Archdemon, hitting it in the chest. It screeches in pain and sends a red ball of fire towards Clarel.

      The Warden-Commander leaps out of the way and the fire barely misses the Magister. The dragon takes flight and the two scatter, going separate ways.

      “Help the Inquisitor,” yells Clarel, before running away.

      Then a Pride demon walks out of the Rift.

     

I rush towards the Pride demon, keeping its focus away from Cassandra as she tries searching for a weak spot.

      The Wardens, still dazed by the whole ordeal, stand around, some watching the demon in fear, others, thankfully, trying to help kill the creature.

      The Archdemon circles around us, watching.

      “Hurry,” yells Cassandra. “Before it brings the whole fortress down.” She turns to face me, but the Pride demon’s focus is now on the distracted Seeker. But Cassandra doesn’t know that, “Lydia, cut at its—”

      A steel bolt flies past Cassandra’s face and hits the Pride demon’s arm, just as it swings towards the Seeker. The creature screeches in pain, swinging its other arm around.

      Cassandra tries to scramble out the way, but she’s hit in the back. She sprawls across the ground, her shield clattering from her arm.

      I leap towards her and she rolls away from the creature. My hands wrap around hers and I pull her to her feet.

      “Thank you.”

      “Thank Varric. He was the one that stopped you from getting crushed,” I don’t stop to hear her response. Instead, I swing low at the demon, cutting its ankles, knees and thighs as it bats the Wardens away.

      A roar cuts through the air and I turn to see the Archdemon circling the clearing. It shoots a ball of red fire from its mouth, the fire ploughing through a statue and smashing into the middle of the clearing. We scramble out of the way, but red lightning courses through the air.

      It zaps my leg and I trip, collapsing to the ground in a heap. Tears spring to my eyes as I crawl to safety.

      I try to stand, but my legs don’t have the strength anymore.

      Then large hands wrap around my waist and pull my gently to my feet. I look into a stern face, eye patch slung over one eye, the other sparkling in joy. It’s Iron Bull.

      He smiles at me, “How you hanging, boss?”

      I nod and croak out a thank you.

      “Chargers! Horns up,” yells Bull. He spins, his maul gripped in two hands, “The bigger the better.” And he sprints towards the demon, a battle cry echoing through the air. Arrows, bolts of magic and swords slam into the demon at once.

      I look around and see the whole team here. Sera shoots at the demon, Harding fires arrow after arrow, Blackwall’s sword thrusts into the demon’s hide and even Vivienne sends a hail of ice down on the demon. Krem and the Chargers distract the demon, clattering their swords against their shields.                                                                     

      Maker, it’s a beautiful sight. We’re actually working together.

      Bull’s maul smashes into the demons head and it roars, falling to its knees. In an explosion of goo, it dies, splattering to the ground.

      I look around, searching for a way to find Clarel, “How do we get out of here?”

      “The Warden-Commander went that way,” yells Cassandra. She points to a set of stairs and we begin our race to find Clarel.

      I turn back to the rest of my inner circle, “You guys were great. Thank you. Make sure the last of the demons are taken care of.”

      With Stroud and Hawke in tow, we continue on. Keeping my weapons drawn, we reach the top of the fortress. I can hear the Archdemon flapping above us, but I don’t dare look up.

      We run along the level and I can hear the heavy breaths of my small team.

      “We’ve nearly got her,” I say.

      No one answers.

      The dragon is close behind us—it seems to fly close, then fly off and circle back around. It’s intelligent, that much I can gather from the few encounters I’ve had with it.

      Debris rains down on us as we cut across the level to a sheltered balcony. Large glassless window flank our left, while a stone wall blocks our right. We can only travel forwards, along the balcony.

      It’s only a few metres in that I realise I can’t hear the wing beats of the dragon anymore.

      Frowning, I step forward to try and find the dragon.

      Talons clutch at the edge of the balcony, tearing through the metal fence and the dragon roars, clinging to the side of the fortress.

      Hawke and Stroud fly from the balcony, hiding behind the walls. But the rest of us are too far in.

      The large pieces of the ceiling fall and Cassandra yanks me back. The dragon’s massive head pokes into the balcony and snaps straight to us, its mouth opening to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. The back of its throat begins to light up.

      I scream and Varric curses. Backing up, the dwarf yanks Cassandra and I into a little alcove in the wall, just as red fire shoots through the length of the balcony. I can feel the heat on my skin as my back is pressed firmly against the back of the alcove.

      Cassandra grips my hand and I open my eyes to see Dorian and Varric squashed against the two of us. The little recess is really only big enough for two, yet the four of us fit snuggled together. Much to Cassandra’s disgust.

      Varric’s face is inches from the Seeker’s chest, his hands pressed against her thighs. Dorian and I share a smirk.

      Cassandra’s eyes flick to me, she cheeks a rosy red, “I think the dragon is gone now.”

      I blink, “Right. Sorry.”

      The four of us shuffle from the alcove and continue on our way, Hawke and Stroud meeting up with us. Hawke gives Varric a quick look, his face flustered and cheeks tipped red. He never thought he’d get that close to Cassandra again.

      The Archdemon follows us from the skies.

      Climbing yet another few flights of stairs, I catch a glimpse of Clarel rounding the corner.

      “There!” I yell.

      The dragon circles around as we reach an archway. Spreading out beyond the archway in a stone platform, jutting out from the edge of the fortress.

      Erimond stands furthest away from me, while Clarel storms towards him. She shoots a bolt of lightning, which he deflects. Erimond counters, a ball of fire streaming towards the Warden-Commander.

      The fire easily bounces off her barrier and she continues towards the Magister, “You! You’ve destroyed the Grey Wardens!”

      Erimond retreats to the edge of the platform and tries to attack, but Clarel sweeps him off his feet. She rounds him, putting Erimond in the middle of her and us.

      The Magister laughs weakly as he gets to his feet, “You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch.” He clutches his stomach, “All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn’t _wait_ to get your hands bloody.”

      Clarel shakes her head, gripping her staff tightly. And she swings it, sending bolts towards the Magister. He flies back, sliding on his back across the length of the platform.

      He groans in pain, body smoking from the hit.

      Clarel stalks towards him, her eyes burning in anger.

      The Magister curls up his body, blooding gushing from the wound in his side. “You could have served a new god.” He loses consciousness.

      “I will never serve the Blight,” she yells. 

      I walk towards her, hoping the reason with her.

      The dragon drops from nowhere, body smashing against the platform and its massive jaws taking Clarel in them.

      I jerk back, “Oh shit!”

      The dragon takes flight with Clarel in its mouth and circles round to land on the archway we were just standing under.

      My group backs away to the edge of the platform, but it’s trapped us. We’ve got nowhere to go unless we charge under it.

      The dragon shakes its head and releases the Warden-Commander.

      She flies to the platform with a painful thud and rolls to a stop.

      I watch as she moves, still conscious, even with the bites marks covering her body. She coughs up blood, and her eyes are blood shot.

      The dragon stalks towards us, ready to claim its prize. It knows Clarel is already dead, it just needs to go for us now.

      We’ve got nowhere to go but backwards, edging our way to the end of the platform. I try not to think about the horrible way its teeth will sink into my flesh.

      Clarel is on her hands and knees as the dragon towers over her. As she crawls towards us, she begins to chant, “In war, victory…” She stops and rolls onto her back, the dragon right on top of her. Its eyes are on us, back legs tensing and ready to pounce. “In peace, vigilance…” Her hand lights up with purple lightning and the dragon lunges.

      But Clarel’s magic explodes, sending the dragon sliding towards us, out of control. We split, scrambling from its path.

      And it tips over the edge, trying in might to gain a grip on the edge of the platform, but the stones loosen under its weight, sending it into the air. I don’t see if it makes flight or not.

      A crack sounds across the platform and I look at my feet to see the stone breaking. A desperate gasp escapes my lips and I stand as the edge of the platform begins crumbling away.

      Cassandra’s on her feet already, trying to jump the cracks and she pulls Varric to his feet. Dorian and Hawke scramble ahead, but I notice we’re missing someone.

      I turn back to see Stroud struggling to escape the falling stones and I leap back to help him just before he goes over the edge.

      I pull him to his feet and together we run.

      The others have stopped to try and help, but I wave at them, “Run!”

      But the entire platform convulses and I trip, sprawling across the cracked stone. The platform tilts and my stomach drops as the ground falls from under me.

      I fall through the air, limbs flailing, wind whipping my hair and tears in my eyes. The only thing I can think of it thrusting out my hand.

      A Rift opens in the air and I fall through it, vision blackening, body going numb.

      The last thing I hear is Cassandra’s scream.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Off to the Fade now. Much fun. This one was quite a long chapter, I’m so sorry about that my friends. But I hope you enjoyed it!


	41. Chapter 40

I’m falling towards the ground, the sandy terrain rushing up to meet me. I try in vain to stop myself, but it’s no use.

      Then I stop in a hover, my arms flailing as I’m pulled back up.

      No wait… am I being pulled down?

      I’m headed straight for the ceiling… or ground, which ever and I can’t stop myself.

      I hold out my hands, to break my fall, but then I stop, hands only inches from the ground.

      Swallowing, I touch my index finger to the ground and the gravity seems to be working again.

      I land on my back, grunting from the impact. The world tilts and I realise I’m lying in wet sand. I scramble to my feet, and glance at my surroundings.

      Green mists hangs over the whole place, shrouding the sky. The whole place is dripping with water, the sand out my feet swallowed in shallow water. Spires of rock jut from the ground in irregular forms, like nothing I’ve seen before. Broken statues stand crumbling around the clearing, abandoned. And I can spot red Lyrium pulsing in the crooks of the rocks. It’s harder to breathe here, the air thick with the mist.

      I spin, searching for anyone. And I spot Stroud, but he’s standing away from me…

      He stands on the rock to my left, horizontal, like he’s walking up the face of the rock, “Where are we?”

      I try to swallow back the rising fear in my throat.

      “We… we were falling,” comes Hawke’s voice. From above me. I look up and see her standing upside down on an overhanging rock. How she managed to land there, Maker, I don’t want to know. She looks around, “Perhaps we landed.”

      And she’s right. I don’t know which way’s up and which way’s down. Cassandra, Varric and Dorian all stand upside down as well, watching me with surprised looks.

      “No… the Inquisitor used the mark to open another Rift,” says Stroud.

      I blink, remembering my impulsive decision. I had no clue what I was doing, let only knowing it would take us here.

      Stroud turns to me, “We fell through the Rift. I believe we are in the Fade.”

      I look out to the horizon, but jagged rocks and green mist cover most of the landscape. A swirling green portal, in the sky is the only landmark I can spot. To get up there? Just twist the landscape to our advantage—Hawke and Stroud are already doing so themselves.

      Gravity doesn’t seem to be an issue here.

      “The Fade looked much different the last time I was here,” says Hawke.

      “The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks,” comments Dorian. “I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recalled. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me.”

      “Charming fellow,” I say.

      Dorian nods, “Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one’s dream.”

      “Not like Solas’ dreams.”

      “The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?” asks Hawke.

      “I don’t know,” I say. “I still can’t remember what happened the last time I did this.” I walk forward, scanning my surroundings, trying to remember. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t find the memories.

      “Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can’t assume we’re safe now,” says Hawke. “That huge demon was right on the other side of that Rift Erimond was using, and there could be others.”

      I purse my lips. She’s right. Being physically in the Fade itself may not be the only dangerous thing—we could also die here if attacked by demons.

      “In our world, the Rift the demons came through was nearby. In the main hall. Can we escape the same way?” asks Stroud.

      My eyes drift to the swirling portal in the sky, “I hope so… beat’s waiting around for demons to find us, right?”

      “Stumbles, that’s the only good thing I’ve heard all night,” says Varric.

      Everyone comes to meet me on the ‘ground’ and I examine everyone. After the tough fight at Adamant, we still can’t get a break.

      Varric’s arms are all scratched, even with the armour Cassandra made him wear. A small cut oozes blood on his stomach, shallow, though it would sting.

      Dorian, robes ripped and hair disheveled, holds his staff loosely, tired eyes scanning the Fade. Gashes run up and down his arms and legs.

      And Cassandra, throwing herself into every fight has a bruised cheek and a busted lip, her face a bloody mess. Her hair is messed and I wonder how the braid stays wrapped around her head, even after everything she’s been through. A large cut on her arms makes me wonder if she’s in any pain. Her face doesn’t show any signs.

      I’m not too better. The three claw marks from the demon I ran into still sting, the blood smudged over my armour. I can feel scratches on my face and deeper one on my leg, though I try not to think about them too much.

      We continue walking through the murky water, our eyes keeping on the Rift that seems too far away.

      “Is this really what it’s like when you dream? How do you people ever sleep?” asks Varric. “Remember last time we ended up in the Fade, Hawke?”

      “How could I forget? My closest friends showed such loyalty in the face of a demon’s temptations.

      “Well, we got better. Sort of.”

      I smirk at Varric, “What was your temptation? A woman?”

      “No. Nothing as exciting,” he waves a hand.

      We reach two golden statues holding green fire in their hands, the beginning of a stairway. I move up the wet stairway, careful not to slip.

      We crest the stairs and we are welcomed by more rock forms, twisted and jagged.

      This place is starting to look all the same.

      But then I notice someone standing to the side, her red and white robes pristine, the golden threading at the front shining even in the dark mist. Her wrinkled face is bowed, but her eyes are watching me.

      I creep closer and something blooms in the pit of my stomach. Fear? Relief?

      She lifts her head, still watching us.

      “By the Maker, could that be…” Stroud doesn’t finish his sentence.

      “I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion,” says the woman.

      “Divine Justinia,” says Cassandra, walking towards her. She is shocked, her eyes not moving from the Divine’s. “Most Holy.”

      “Cassandra,” says the Divine, a soft smile on her lips.

      The Seeker doesn’t blink.

      “Cassandra,” I urge. “You knew the Divine. Is this really her?”

      “I… I don’t know. It is said the souls of the dead pass through the Fade and sometimes linger, but… we know the spirits lie. Be wary, Inquisitor.” Her eyes flick to me.

      “I fear the Divine is indeed dead. It is likely we face a spirit… or a demon,” says Stroud.

      “You think my survival impossible,” says the Divine. “Yet here you stand alive in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have.”

      “Then simply tell us what you are,” says Hawke.

      “I am here to help you. You do not remember what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Inquisitor.”

      I frown at the Divine, “The real Divine would have no way of knowing that I’d been made Inquisitor.”

      “I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus.”  She turns to the Rift, “It is the nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false Calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? Its work.”

      “I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren,” growls Stroud.

      “You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is its lair.”

      “The big demon Erimond was trying to bring through?” I ask.

      “Yes.”

      “It’s nearby?”

      “Yes.”

      I cough, “Well.”

      “When you enter the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it.” She gestures to the area in front of us, covered in shallow, green water and rocks. “These are your memories, Inquisitor.”

      Four demons explode in bursts of green, skirting around us. Their human-like spirits flit around us, throwing green bolts of energy.

      We carve through the spirits, ghostly bodies not standing a chance against our swords. Their bodies dissipate into piles of goo, but voices seem to call from them. I hold my hand out and I concentrate on the first pile of spirit goo. My hand glows and a bolt of energy runs through me.

      “Bring forth the sacrifice,” comes a voice: Corypheus’.

      I move onto the next puddle and hold out my hand, staring at the ground. Another bolt of energy runs through me and The Divine’s voice fills the air, “Run while you can. Warn them!”

      These are the same words we heard the first time Cassandra and I went to the temple after the explosion, when I had to close the Rift.

      I recover the third memory, my energy slowly seeping back into my limbs. Though, it makes me wonder how the others are holding up without the extra boost.

      “Why are you doing this? You of all people?” asks the Divine, her voice echoing across the clearing.

      Cassandra gives me a tight-lipped look, urging me to recover the last memory.

      My palm glows green again and the final bolt of energy shoots through me.

      But this time it’s different, pain shoots through my palm and I gasp as visions begin to fill my mind.

      We’re in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, just before the explosion.

      Divine Justinia is bound by red magic, arms and legs spread wide. She hovers a few feet in the air, Grey Warden’s surrounding to keep her suspended.

      The Grey Wardens… why would they do such a thing?

      The Divine bows her head in defeat.

      “Now is the hour of our victory,” says Corypheus as he steps closer to the Divine.

      “Why are you doing this?” she asks. “You of all people?”

      Corypheus holds the orb in his long fingers and he continues to stalk towards the Divine, “Keep the sacrifice still.” He holds out the orb, and it glows green, the magic sparking over the surface.

      He holds it close to the Divine and the magic lurches out towards her, the green tendrils wrapping around her chest.

      She writhes in pain, “Someone help me!”

       Corypheus just laughs, a twisted smile coming to his face.

      Then the doors burst open and _I_ walk through, “What’s going on here?”

      Both Corypheus and the Divine turn to me, shock etched on their faces. But the Divine takes the opportunity of distraction and slaps the orb from Corypheus’ grasp.

      The orb falls to the floor and rolls, the green magic still glowing along its surface. I watch myself as I dive for the orb, scooping it up before it passes me.

      But pain twists my face and I gap at myself as the orb sears my hand.                      

      Corypheus’ face falls and he bolts towards me, the orb still in my hand. He yells and lunges, but doesn’t reach me as the orb explodes.

      White light blinds me and then we’re back in the Fade. I rub my head as my mind tries to sort through the memories.

      “So,” says Stroud. “Your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual.”

      My heart swirls, a lump forming in my throat. This mark wasn’t given to me by her? I blink back tears. I had believed myself that she had given it to me…

      “Corypheus intended to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the Black City,” says the Divine. “Not for the Old Gods but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb destroyed the Anchor upon you instead.

      “So this was, what, an accident? A random ricochet in the middle of a fight?” I ask.

      “And if it was?”

      “If it was, then neither the Maker no Andraste were in any way involved in this? I’m just…” my voice cracks.

      “If you believe in the Maker, then you believe He made this world and everything in it, including your accident. And if you do not, then nothing has changed. You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead.”

      “Wait, I have some questions,” I say.

      “We cannot tarry long,” says the Divine.

      “What can you tell me about this mark on my hand?”

      “It is the needle that pulls the thread, as well as the key.

      I frown, “I don’t understand.”

      “It is the needle that passes through the Veil, as little else can. You are the thread. And it is the key that locks or unlocks a door to the Fade. It lets you walk in the Fade physically and survive. Without it, Corypheus must find another way to the Black City. It is part of you now and cannot be removed with your death.”

      “So… all of this is just a dream? Part of the Fade?”

      “It is not ‘just’ a dream. The minds of mankind are made real here. Their hopes, their loves and their fears. What changes their world also changes this one. And yours are footsteps that move mountains in both. Tread carefully, Inquisitor. This ground is more treacherous than you know.”

      I regard the Divine, “Why are you here, why take part in this?”

      “After Haven, I hid here. I watched quietly, learned what I could and searched for some way to help. And then you came.”

      “I don’t know what that means.”

      “Corypheus and the Nightmare do an injustice to the world. You must stop them. Perhaps you were meant to stop them. Perhaps that is why I am here.”

      “This Nightmare… I’d like to know more about it.”

      The Divine nods, “It is not simply fear. It is the terror you cannot remember, the horror your mind erases to protect you. When old memories no longer make the veteran soldier’s hand tremble, it is because the Nightmare has taken them. Most people avoid their fears. It is simple for the demon to steal the darkest fragments. They forget and it feeds. Corypheus helped it grow monstrous.”

      “It… makes people forget the worst parts of their fears? It almost sounds like the Nightmare is helping people.”

      “Perhaps it was once. But now, it helps none but Corypheus. By his hand, it creates more fear and grows even stronger. In any case, robbing people of their fears is never a kindness. At best, it is a mistake borne of compassion.”

      I wouldn’t mind if the Nightmare took away my fears.

      The Divine continues, “Without fear and pain and failure, we cannot learn. We cannot grow. As you cannot grow until you recover all that was taken from you.”

      I glance at Hawke. And when I turn back, the Divine is gone. I spin, trying to search for her, but I can’t find her.  

      Looking at Stroud, he tilts his head to Hawke, “Something troubles you Hawke.”

      “Trying to ignore the grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision?” she says, not meeting Stroud’s gaze. “Their actions led to their death.” Her hard eyes flick to him.

      Stroud takes a breath, “I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before. Come, we can argue after we escape this dark place.”

      “Oh, I intend to,” mutters Hawke.

      We group together and continue on our way.

      Cassandra walks beside me, “Could that truly have been the Most Holy?”

      “I’ve never met her before, so you’re guess is as good as mine,” says Varric.

      “I have no idea,” agrees Dorian. “If it’s a spirit, it’s not acting like one. No demon would have been so helpful without asking something in return.”

      “But the Nightmare? I do not want to meet that,” I say.

      “Sounds like it prays on fear. Stealing people’s memories. That’s low, even for a demon,” says Varric. “Memories make us what we are. A monster that takes them away? I don’t want to think about that.”

      “After what it did to my fellow Wardens, I pray we find some way to strike it down,” says Stroud.

      We trudge along the small muddy path, Cassandra keeping close to my side. Which makes me feel a little safer.

      The bleak land really does nothing for our morale, Hawke walks with Varric, not even looking at Stroud, while Dorian, Cassandra and I seem to stick together, too scared to even take a step from one another.

       Coming to a flight of stairs, we ascend them slowly. The mud shifts under my foot and it slides out from under me. Both Dorian and Cassandra grab my arms, steading me. I nod at them in thanks and the group continue.

      We’re hardly five minutes into our trek to the portal, when we reach a clearing. Shallow water ripples as demons slide along, grunting. Green bubbles pop on the water’s surface, gas bellowing from them. The mist curls around us, but I can make out pillars around us, with weird pieces of stone jutting out from them.

      “Ah, we have a visitor,” comes a voice. We all stop, searching the clearing for a source, but nothing shows itself. “Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders.”

      I frown.

      “You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think the pain will make you stronger? What fool filled you mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.”

      The demons turn to us, alerted to our presence.

      We spring to action, moving as a unit as the demons and spirits begin to bear down on us. I cut through a spirit with ease as it tries to go for Dorian.

      Spinning, I dodge a demon’s attack and slice at it, but it quickly moves away. Hawke, Stroud and Cassandra create a shield wall at the incoming wave of demons. Dorian and Varric fire above the shield wall, striking at the demons as try to break the shield wall.

      The mist swirls around us, yet we still manage to take down the demons.

      I drive a blade into the last demon’s eye and it squeals as it dissolves to goo.

      The clearing is silent as we try to get our breaths back.

      A set of stairs looms in front of us and I swallow, “Come on, the sooner we get out of here, the better.”

      The others don’t argue. 


	42. Chapter 41

We crest another hill and I glance at Cassandra to see how she’s holding up.

      She looks at me, her mouth tight-lipped. But then her eyes flick back as we walks down the stairs. Her face twists into horror, “What are those things?” Her voice rings out through the Fade.

      I turn. And nearly vomit. Big black spiders drop from their webs, legs scuttling as they grip the ground. I let out a scream and even Cassandra backs away.

      I grip my swords as the spiders come closer, but everyone is panicked, watching the spiders in fear. Varric isn’t usually this scared… and Cassandra. She lets out a small, panicked scream as she cuts through one with her sword.

      A spider scuttles towards me and I shut my eyes as I swing my sword. I feel the blade cut through something and when I open my eyes, the spider writhes, its disgusting legs curling up towards its body.

      We all seem to struggle with killing spiders… something’s not right here. I’m sure Cassandra’s not _that_ scared of them.

      I flick out a pocket knife and throw it, hoping I won’t have to go near the spider. The small blade lands in the creature’s head and it stops moving. I blink back the unexpected tears in my eyes and I try to wipe them before anyone sees.                         

      Hawke drives her sword into the last spider and pulls it out quickly before backing away, her lip curling in disgust.

      Dorian blinks, “Smaller fears, I would wager, scavenging whatever the Nightmare leaves behind.”

      I swallow, “Not a small fear for me.”                                                                          

      He turns to me, “Spiders. Perhaps you have a deeper fear yet unknown to you. Your memories might give you some indication if you get them back.”

      “I really don’t think I have a fear bigger than my phobia of spiders.”

      “Let us hope not.”

      Hawke nods, “I saw spiders too, yet, my fear isn’t crippling like yours.”

      I let out a small laugh, “My fear’s not _that_ crippling.” Pausing, I glance at the group, “Alright, it may be a little crippling.”

      “I did not see spiders,” says Cassandra. “I saw maggots, crawling in filth.”

      “Ah, of course. The demons look different to each of us, personalized little terrors. I saw walking corpses.”

      “Wonderful,” says Varric.

      We move, eager to get away from our ‘smaller’ fears, but I’m left shaking. Those didn’t seem like small fears to me. And what if Dorian’s right, what if I do have a bigger fear than spiders? I just haven’t figured it out yet…

      Our walk is in silence, none of us talking and we reach an area surrounded with sharp spires of rock. Red Lyrium pulses from the rock, a merciless enemy if we get too close for too long. Perhaps it’s playing on Varric’s fears now.

      A broken mirror stands in the middle of the clearing, candles lit around it with green fire flickering from their wicks.

      “Perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition,” comes the Nightmare’s voice. He laughs cruelly. “Greetings Dorian… it is Dorian, isn’t it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.”

      “Rather uncalled for,” mutters Dorian as we continue on.

      I give him a look, but he waves me off.

       Reaching the broken mirror, I place a hand on a dirty piece of glass and somethings explodes beside me. I spin to see a rage demon sliding towards me, arms out stretched.

      Dorian holds up his staff, sending a bolt of ice to chill the demon. Its fiery hide slowly cracks, ice running along its skin. I smash the flat of my blade against the demon and it shatters, its body scatters over the ground.

      Cassandra pulls me away from the mirror, “Did your mother ever tell you not to touch suspicious things?”

      “Obviously not,” I say, keeping close to her.

      We move away from the mirror, Varric giving me a slight smile.

      “Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra,” comes the Nightmare’s voice.

      My eyes meet hers.

      “Yet more evidence there is no Maker. That all your ‘faith’ has been for naught.”

      She scowls, “Die in the Void, demon.” She nods at me in encouragement and we continue.

      The area narrows into a smaller clearing, twisted statues looming above us. Still, none of us talk. We’re just too tired and too scared.

      “Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric,” the demon’s voice rumbles across the Fade. “You found the red Lyrium. You brought Hawke here…”

      “Just keep talking, Smiley,” Varric mutters.

      Hawke gives him a smile.

      But the Nightmare just laughs, cruel and slow.

      The landscape narrows as we come to a causeway, spires of rock blocking any route but going forward. Skulls litter the ground, and shallow pools of water ripple from our footsteps.

      “Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god? Anders is going to die, just like your family and everyone you ever cared about.”

      “Of course a fear demon would know where to hurt us most. We must ignore it,” says Hawke, glancing at us.

      The landscape spreads out into another clearing and I see Divine Justinia standing calmly, watching us, “The Nightmare is closer now. It knows you seek escape. With each moment, it grows stronger.”

      Green spirits appear around the area and we all unsheathe our weapons. The spirits I can handle… it’s the spiders I can’t stand.

      We take the spirits down with ease, thank the Maker. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the up the fighting. My arms are sore, my legs ache and my head pounds.

      I hardly blink as I absorb the first memory. A scream fills the air, but I can’t tell whose scream. Absorbing the second memory, I flinch as someone says, “Go.” The Divine.

      Unlike the last memories, these ones don’t give me back some of my strength. They seem to be taking it.

      I lift my hand to the third memory, Hawke giving me a warm smile. My mark flickers as I take in the memory, “The demons!” It’s definitely the Divine.

      My legs are like lead now and I shuffle over to the last memory. The pounding in my head is almost unbearable.

      My mark drinks in the memory and yet again we’re pulled into my mind to relive what happened that day. We’re in the Fade, a similar landscape to the one we’re in now.

      I watch as I climb up a vertical staircase, giant spiders chasing after me, “This is the Breach back in Haven. That’s how we… how _I_ escaped.”

      As I climb the stairs, I slip a few times, small stones tumbling down to hit the spiders below me. The mist swirls around me, threatening to swallow me. T5

      The Divine reaches out to me as I near the top, “The demons!”

      The memory flashes and the two of us are running towards the Rift. I turn back to the Divine, “Keep running!”

      The Divine screams and I spin, inches from the Rift. The spiders hold the Divine’s legs, their fangs buried deep into her thigh. I reach out to grab her hand, trying to pull her from their grasp. But there are too many of them.

      She looks at me, pleading, “Go.” And her hand slips from my hold.

      I scream but the pleading in her eyes seems to urge me to the Rift. With a glance back at the Divine as she tumbles over the edge of the cliff, I dive into the Rift and the world goes blank.

      When I regain myself, I step towards the Divine, “It was you.”

      The Divine, standing away from us, turns, her face grave.

      I walk towards her, “They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me.”

      After everything I believed—that Andraste was there for me, how She gave me the mark and helped me from the Rift—it is all a lie.

      “And then you… she died.”

      Most Holy doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but then her gaze meets mine, “Yes.”

      “So this creature is simply a spirit,” says Stroud.

       “You don’t say,” mutters Hawke, still angry at Stroud.

      “I am sorry if I disappoint you,” says the Divine, her voice quiet.

      Hawke’s expression softens at her words.

      The Divine’s face begins to shine, yellow light spilling from her lips and eyes. Her whole body dissolves into a brilliant yellow spirit form and she hovers above the ground.

      “Are you… her?” I ask. “Did you linger here to help me, instead of passing on?”

      “If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one,” comes her reply.

      “What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens,” says Hawke, looking at Stroud.

      Stroud turns to face her, “As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus. We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant.”

      “Which is filled with Wardens who made blood sacrifices to raise a demon army,” retorts Hawke. 

      “How dare you judge us?” yells Stroud. “You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

      Hawke steps towards the Warden, eyes burning with anger, “To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic! The Wardens have gone mad. Or maybe they always were. Someone has to stop them.”

      “They might still be useful,” says Dorian. “What if Corypheus conjures another Blight? You never know.”

      “The Wardens are a risk,” says Cassandra. “Send them away before they cause even more trouble.”

      “I don’t know what to tell you,” says Varric, a sad glance a Hawke. “There are a few good ones, but an awful lot of the Wardens I know went crazy.”

      Hawke’s eyes flash, an unspoken argument between the two of them. Anders perhaps… I read he was a rogue Warden. And he started the rebellion by blowing up the Chantry. Yet Hawke still loves him.

      But I’ve had enough of the arguing. We need to work together, not tear at each other’s throats.

      I step between Hawke and Stroud, pushing them back, “This debate can wait until we’re out of danger.”

      Both Hawke and Stroud look at me in surprise.

      “Inquisitor…” says Hawke, her eyes drifting to something behind me.

      I spin to see spiders scuttling towards us. Fear boils in the pit of my stomach and I can feel myself wanting to throw up.

      “The Nightmare has found us,” says the spirt Divine. She disappears quickly.

      “Form up,” says Stroud.

      “I’m with you,” nods Hawke.

      No…

      I push them back.

      I’ve had enough of this place… I just want to go home. I just want to be free from Corypheus’ wrath.

      I step forward, a feral scream tearing from my lips as I bring my hand into to the air. The mark pulls against my will and a Rift opens just behind the spiders. I’ve had enough.

      The spiders… or maggots or whatever else they appear as are sucked into the Rift, screeching as they try to escape its grip.

      I stumble backwards, strong arms holding me up.

      The Rift closes and yet again I’m reduced to dry heaving in the shallow pool.

      Cassandra pulls the hair from my face, “You mustn’t use that power. How many times have I told you?”

      Tears spring to my eyes as I try to throw up my empty stomach. I look at her, “I just really couldn’t stand the spiders.”

      A smile tugs against her lips, “You are stupid, Lydia. Don’t do it again. I can’t afford to lose you now.”

      I laugh, feeling the wave of nausea ebbing away, “I can’t make that promise. There may be more spiders.”

      She helps me to my feet and I rub my mouth with the back of my hand.

      Dorian gives me a smile.

      Hawke inclines her head, “Are you alright?”

      “Better now, thanks.”

      “We’ve got to go after the Divine,” says Dorian. “She’s our only way out of this place.”

      “I hope we find our way out soon.”

      With Cassandra close to my side, we continue on, in search for the Divine.

      We don’t get too far when the Nightmare begins its ramblings again, “Warden Stroud, how must it feel to devote your whole life to the Wardens, only to watch them fall? Or worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction? When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name?”

      “With the Maker’s blessing, we will end this wretched beast,” growls Stroud.

      After a few minutes of slow walking, the Divine hovers above the narrow path, beckoning us along.

      “Do you think you can fight me? I am your every fear come to life!” teases the Nightmare. “I am the Veiled hand of Corypheus himself! The demon army you fear? I command it. They are bound all through me!”

      “Ah, so if we banish you, we banish the demons? Thank you, every fear come to life,” says the Divine.

      The Nightmare roars in frustration and the Divine moves along, showing us the path.

 

+++

 

I spot something as we traverse across a large clearing. Water spans out to the right of us as far as the eye can see. Rocks hover above us, floating upside down and my brain struggles to comprehend which way is up. The wet sand underneath my shifts as I pick up speed, curious about the little fenced off area. A fence in the Fade?

      I stop just outside the fenced area, seeing that it’s a cemetery. Head stones stand in rows, each inscribed with names.

      _Blackwall: Himself._

      I blink and read the next one.

      _Cole: Despair._

      _Solas: Dying alone._

      I swallow the lump in my throat. These are their greatest fears. Perhaps not animate, but certainly something that keeps them awake at night.

      _Sera: The Nothing._

_Dorian: Temptation._

      It almost feels as though I’m reading their personal thoughts… I’m prying into their minds. Dorian shares a glance with me as he moves away from his tomb stone.

      _Vivienne: Irrelevance._

_Iron Bull: Madness._

      I glance at the last two.

      _Varric: His Parents._

_Cassandra: Helplessness._

Turning to see Cassandra’s face, I notice that she’s not looking at her tomb stone, she’s looking at the large one in the middle of the cemetery. Walking over to her, I read the inscription on the stone.

      _Lydia: A Mistake._

      I turn away. Yet it’s true. None of this was Andraste’s doing, I was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. After everything I believed, it’s all wrong. I’m a mistake.

      “Come on, let’s keep moving,” says Hawke.

      But those fears… were they really what everyone is scared of? Or is the Nightmare playing with us? Glancing at the group, I see their faces are stern, no one smiles, no one even talks.

      Maker, I hope we get out of here soon.

 

The Divine is up ahead, her figure glowing a brilliant yellow.

      We reach her and she glides through the air, this time keeping close to us. Walking into a cavern-like rock formation, the water sloshes around my boots. Red Lyrium hangs from the ceiling, which we stay well away from.

      “You must get through the Rift, Inquisitor,” says the Divine. “Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons… and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

      There’s a hole in the rock wall and I can see out into the Fade’s landscape. The Rift, swirling in the air is only a few tantalizing steps away. “The Rift! We’re almost there!”

      “We’re not there yet, stay alert,” warns Cassandra.

      We come to the exit of the cavern and I stop.

      A massive creature, almost spider-like stands between us and the Rift. Its legs are longer then I am in height. I don’t know where its eyes are because holes seem to dot every inch of its skin. Two fangs hang from its lips, sharper than any blade.

      And the demon in front of it screeches at us. Its face is covered in a hard mask, with spidery legs protruding from its back like wings. Its nails are claws and its robes are dirty.

      I can hardly move, frozen on the spot as they both watch my group.

      The Divine hovers in front of me, pushing me back from the Divine, “If you would, please tell Leliana, ‘I am sorry. I failed you, too’.” She moves towards the demons and with one last look at Cassandra, spreads her arms wide. Her spirit is too bright to look at and I cover my eyes as she runs right into the bigger demon. And she explodes, sending a ball of fire into the creature’s face.

      Cassandra tries to run after the Divine, but the spirit is already gone. I stop her and she lets out a small wail.

      But we’ve got bigger problems.

      The masked demon scrambles to its feet and roars at us.

      “It’s an Aspect of the Nightmare,” says Dorian. “Kill it and we hopefully wound the actual demon.  
      And by actual demon, I’m assuming the giant one the Divine just managed to wound already.

      The six of us pounce at the Aspect, trying in vain to rip through it, the kill it in any way. But it’s strong and fast.

      Varric shoots a bolt and it bounces straight off the Aspect’s armour. Stroud runs towards its, shield up and sword raised.

      Yet the Aspect bats him away, as a person would a bug.

      I twirl my swords in my hands and take Stroud’s place, slashing at the Aspect. I dodge its fist, knowing the move was coming. Spinning, my blade part of my arm, I thrust the tip straight towards the Aspect’s stomach. It screeches and just as the tip touches the Aspect’s robes, it disappears.

      I turn, watching as the creature reappears a few metres away from me at the corner of the raised stone platform we stand on.

      “It can teleport,” says Stroud. We try again, slashing at the Aspect, but it simply teleports to the corners of the platform, dodging our every move.

      Cassandra sprints towards the Aspect when it appears, a battle cry tearing from her lips. She swings and I’ve got to wonder how she’s still got the strength. But yet again the Aspect teleports to the other corner. Cassandra’s momentum carries her forward and the Aspect simply hovers towards her, a hand slamming right into her face.

      The Seeker drops to the ground with a thud and I scream her name. But her gets to her feet, blood oozing from her lip.

      “I grow fat on your fear,” taunts the Nightmare.

      Dorian shoots a bolt of ice at the creature and it actually hits. The Aspect screeches and snaps its attention to Dorian, a hand coming to pull the ice shard from its side.

      It teleports to the corner, closer to Dorian and tries to swipe at the mage, but he manages to dodge the attack.

      I blink, the pieces slowly fitting together. The Aspect can teleport, but it only moves to the four corners, and moves around only when it has to. If we trap it to those four corners, we can try to wound it when it teleports.

      I yell orders to the others as Varric distracts the Aspect. Cassandra, Stroud, Hawke and I run towards our corners, with Dorian and Varric shooting from the outskirts.

      A steel bolt passes straight through the Aspect as it teleports…

      And it appears on my corner, a laugh coming from the Aspect, “You are nothing.”

      I spin to face it and hear the demon screech. Things begin to crawl out from the rocks as I tackle the Aspect to the ground. It twists mid-air and lands on top of my leg. Yet it can’t seem to get to its feet. Then something leaps on top of me and I’m pinned to the Aspect. Legs scrabble along my body, trying to grab hold.

      And I’m face to face with a spider. Its eight black eyes stare at me, fangs clicking together. I try pushing it off me, but its fangs sink into my shoulder. A scream echoes across the Fade—my scream.

      I can feel the tears sliding down my cheeks and all I can see is the spider’s disgusting face. Then it’s pulled from me, fangs finally freed from my flesh.

      Hawke stabs the spider and quickly pulls me from the Aspects grasp as Cassandra thrusts her sword into the Aspect’s masked face. It roars, arms flailing in its attempt to get free. But its movements slow and it takes its last breath.

      “Go now!” yells Hawke. She helps me to my feet, as I clutch my shoulder, warm blood drippling through my fingers. Stroud stands on my other side, helping me as I try to keep it together.

      The Rift is left free from the Divine’s help. Cassandra, Dorian and Varric rush ahead of the three of us and I breathe a sigh of relief when they jump through the Rift.

      We hobble towards the Rift, but a giant leg steps in the way, followed by the body of the Nightmare. It growls at us and we back away from it.

      “We need to clear a path,” says Stroud.

      “Go,” says Hawke. “I’ll cover you.”

      “No,” argues Stroud. “You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must—”

      “A Warden must help them rebuild! That’s your job. Corypheus is mine.”

      I look at the two, torn. Completely torn, “What if I stay?”

      “You can’t,” yells Hawke. “The Inquisition needs their Inquisitor. You are not an option.”

      I swallow, “I can’t…”

      “Someone needs to clear a path,” says Stroud.

      Hawke nods.

      Blinking back even more tears, my eyes travel to the Nightmare. The last fear… losing someone close to me. Hawke or Stroud.

      My fists clench together. Stroud needs to lead the Wardens. But, Varric will kill me if I…

      “Stroud.” His name seems hollow to say. I’m sending him to his death.

      But when my eyes meet his, he gives me a tough smile, “Inquisitor, it has been an honour.” He rushes towards the Nightmare, sword held high, to rip through the Nightmare’s body, “For the Wardens!”

      He tears through the Nightmare and Hawke pulls me towards the Rift. The Nightmare screeches in pain and I look back to see Stroud putting up the fight of his life. I choke back a sob and stop, allowing Hawke in front of me. I try to wait for him, but he’s trapped. There’s no way he’s going to get through.

      “Come on Stroud,” I say weakly.

      Hawke grabs my hand and her look is final. We've got to leave him.

      We jump through the Rift together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooohh my lord, that was a long chapter. The Fade is quite a long mission, so I did cut a lot out. And same with Adamant Fortress. I didn’t think you guys wanted long chapters with every enemy they come across. And I did make it a little less canon (like the fears in the graveyard: I thought it would be cool to have a bigger fear for Lydia than spiders.) But, it’s finally over. I was going to kill off Hawke, but when I got to it, I just couldn’t do it! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! Stay groovy!


	43. Chapter 42

Hawke and I land on the stone platform, Inquisition scouts and Grey Wardens fighting the demons around us. I thrust my hand into the air and my mark sparks to life. Feeling the pull of the Rift, I clench my fist and the Rift closes, an explosion of green light.

      The demons drop to the ground, turning to piles of goo. Hawke’s knees give out and I catch her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

      Cheers erupt around us, scouts raising their weapons in salute, the battle finally over.

      But all my strength has left me, my shoulder burns and Maker… I just sent Stroud to his death.

      Before I know it, the world it tilting and my vision goes black.

 

+++

 

It’s dawn when I wake. The fortress still stands, even after the battle, but I do see the destruction. Battlements are crumpled, stone bricks scattered everywhere, and giant holes had been smashed into the walls from the trebuchets. The wounded lay on bedrolls in the cool, open air. Ash falls through the sky, blanketing everything in a thin layer. Healers hurry around, tending to the wounded.

      There’s a fury cloak wrapped around my shoulders and I look down to see that it’s Cullen’s. Pulling the cloak over my shoulders, I stand slowly.

      A healer turns to me and nods, “They’re in the bailey. In one of the tents.”

      I walk through the fortress, taking the same paths we had taken the night before. It all seems so different now. Large fires burn, the bodies of both Wardens and Inquisition scouts being cremated.

      When I get to the bailey, my inner circle are helping with the clean up. A tent has been set up in the middle of the bailey, a wooden table covered in a parchment map sits in it, along with the advisors, Cassandra, Varric and Dorian.

      Their faces are dirty from the ash, armour and robes ripped, yet they haven’t stopped. Unlike me who collapsed. Pathetic compared to them.

      Sera throws a small rock with a grunt and it rebounds off the cracked wall, hitting me in the leg. She starts, “Quizzy?”

      I smile, “I’m… er, back.”

      She grins and runs over to me, enveloping my body in an awkward hug. Her hips dig into my side and her hand pats my back. It’s like she’s never hugged before. I squeeze her, surprised that she is actually showing this kind of affection.

      Yet, when she doesn’t let go, I cough, “Sera?”  
      “Yeah?”

      “You can let go now.”

      “Yeah. Right,” she pulls away. “Sorry.” She frowns, “I just can’t think about that shite. I don’t know what you saw…”

      “Hey, Sera. It’s fine. We made it back.”

      She nods, “You’re scared of spiders, yeah? All of them? Even the little ones? Varric said you saw spiders.”

      I laugh, “Pretty much all spiders, yes.”

      “That’s no good, I mean, they’re everywhere. I bet even right here, just crawling with those legs and hairy eyes.” She looks away, “That’s probably not helping. It’s stupid to think about anyway. You’re alive, yeah. That’s all that matters.”

      “Thanks Sera.”

      The rest of the group come to stand around me, all asking questions about the Fade. Vivienne pushes Sera away and nods, “Cassandra and Varric told us what happened, my dear. Yet… they don’t know what happened after they escaped through the Rift. It was a few minutes before you and Hawke appeared after them.”

      I look away from the group, “I… I…”

      “How about you tell me what happened while I patch you up?” says Dorian, pushing his way to me. “I’m sure you don’t want them asking a hundred questions.”

      And so we relocate to the large tent and Dorian sits me down on a wooden seat. Cassandra orders the rest to continue their clean up, so they don’t crowd the tent. Varric can tell them about it later.

      Leliana and Cullen stand to the side, Josephine still not present. The spymaster hadn’t allowed her to come to Adamant, even after the fighting was finished.

      Dorian kneels in front of me, “That bandage will need changing. I’ve sucked the venom out of your system, though I do believe it was a figment of your fear.”

      I blink, “What?”

      “When that spider bit you, your worst fear came to life. The Nightmare only needed that fear to turn things against you. In your case: poison.”

      “I don’t…”

      “Your own brain tricked your body into thinking you had poison in your system. But indeed, it was just your imagination. Something the Nightmare used against you. A simple spell purged those thoughts from your mind and your body is better. Yet the wound still remains.”

      “Maker…”

      “To me, it looked like a corpse had bitten you.”

      Cassandra nods as she sits down next to me, “I saw maggots writhing on you.”

      A laugh escapes my throat, “Really?” My mind wonders to what that would have looked like. Me on the ground, screaming at maggots crawling on me. I laugh again, “That would have been weird.”

      Cassandra just stares at me, “It was horrifying.” My eyes scan her face. Bruises cover her neck and cheek, as well as her busted lip. Dried blood cakes her chin.

      Someone pulls the cloak from my shoulders and begins unbuckling my armour. I slap his hand away, “Dorian. I thought you liked men.”

      The mage blinks, “I have to actually get to your shoulder in order to heal it.”

      “I can undress myself.”

      “Oh? I bet you won’t say that to Cu—”

      “You can’t even eat by yourself without spilling food on you,” cuts Cassandra, saving me from the rest of Dorian’s sentence.

      Dorian just grins at me.

      Pulling the armour over my head, with some help from Cassandra, I glance at my black cotton shirt. The shoulder it ripped, blood staining the dark fabric. Dorian rips the sleeve and pulls it back to see the extent of the wound. Two puncture holes cover my shoulder. Blood trickles from the wound and I turn away, “Maker’s ass and tits, that’s disgusting.”

      Cassandra scowls, “Don’t blasphemy. You of all people.”

      “Sorry.”

      Cullen slowly walks over, “Maker, are you alright?”

      “Right as rain, though it does throb a little.”

      Relief seems to flood his features and I smile at him.

      “Now, this is going to hurt, Lydia,” warns Dorian. “But you have to keep still. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

      Varric lets out a snort, “Sounds like a scene from one of my books.”

      “It’s what he said to Iron Bull before they made love,” I say.

      Dorian blinks slowly, “Do you want this wound healed or not?”

      But I turn to Cassandra, “Do you know which scene?”

      Cassandra sighs, “Sadly. Yes. There are quite a few.”

      I let out a laugh.

      The mage pulls a vial of cleaning alcohol from his pocket and pours it onto a cloth, “Get ready.”

      I stiffen as he brings the cloth inches from my wound. Then he begins cleaning it. The alcohol stings like shit and I bite back a shriek. Cassandra grips my hand and I squeeze, trying to dull the pain.

      “Done,” says Dorian. He glances at Cassandra, but then examines her face, “You are in need of healing as well, Cassandra. Varric, could you help me, I don’t have enough hands.”

      “No,” says Cassandra. “I’m fine.”

      “No you’re not,” I say. “You need some medicines to help with those bruises. And your lip… and your wound on your arm.”

      She glares at me and I grin, “Don’t forget that cut on your leg.”

      “Ugh. I get it.’

      Varric clears his throat, “I… ah, have some salve here that could help.”

      “It’s always good to have someone else around who knows how to help the injured,” says Dorian. His hand squeezes my own and we share a knowing glance. This may mend Cassandra and Varric’s broken relationship.

      Cassandra jerks away, “No. I said I’m fine.”

      “No, you really aren’t, Seeker,” says Varric. He comes to stand next to the sitting Seeker, his face a few inches higher than hers.

      I grin at the height difference.

      Varric begins work on Cassandra’s face, gently rubbing to salve over her bruises. Leliana watches the two, a faint grin on her face and even Cullen shoots me a smile. Dorian continues tending to my shoulder wound.

      “What…” Cassandra hesitates when Varric’s fingers brush over her cheek. “What happened when we jumped through the Rift? Stroud...”

      I blink, “Just as we were about to follow you through, the Nightmare blocked our way. Hawke and Stroud both argued over who would stay behind… and I… I had to choose.”

      A gloved hand wraps around mine. Cassandra never fails in comforting me. A small gesture, yet I know she wouldn’t do that to anyone else.

      “I chose Stroud.”

      Varric looks up from his work and I can’t help but see the relief in his eyes.

      I clench my fists, “I didn’t know what to do.”

      “You did what you had to do, Lydia,” comforts Dorian. “I don’t know what I would have done in that situation. You did better than me.”

      Cassandra gives me a small nod in agreement.

      Dorian wraps the last of the bandage around my shoulder, “And it seems I’m done. Those fang marks will scar, but it leaves a nice reminder of your time in the Fade.”

      I frown, “Just what I want.”

      “That a girl.”

      Varric is still working on Cassandra’s bruising, much to her disgust. His fingers slide across her neck, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.

      I wink at her and she looks away. Her braid is messy, mostly undone from her fighting in the Fade.

      “Cassandra?”

      “What?”

      “Did you ever have long hair?”

      She blinks and looks at me, “Of course. I cut it because it was too annoying. Fighting with long hair is dangerous.”

      I nod, “I just can’t imagine you with long hair.”

      She lets out a laugh, “That’s because you’ve never seen me with it.”

      “Well, you do have the braid that you always plait every day.”

      “Yes, but that isn’t flying around when I fight. It’s tucked around my head.”

      “And you do that everyday?”

      “Yes. I like it.”

      “It’s nice, I must agree. Perhaps I should grow one,” I say, running a hand through my shoulder-length hair.

      She stares at me, “That would be a bad idea. I don’t want you looking the same as me.”

      “Oh come on, who doesn’t want to look like the Hero of Orlais?”

      “Everyone.”

      I snort, but before I can say anything more, Hawke steps through the opening and looks at me, “Inquisitor, if we may… there is something we need to discuss.”

 

The Wardens stand below me as I take them in from the stage that Clarel and Erimond had stood to perform the ritual. The Inquisition stands to the side, watching me.

      Hawke comes to stand beside me, “The Divine was right. Without the Nightmare to control the, the mages are free and Corypheus loses his demon army. Though as far as they’re concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker.”

      I shake my head, “Once they understand what really happened…”

      “They’ll be terrified. I for one am tired of giving fear demons anything to feed on. Let them have their story.”

      A scout runs to the stage and looks up at us, “Inquisitor, we have reports the Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori Magister is unconscious but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself.” He nods, “As for the Wardens, those who weren’t corrupted help us fight the demons.”

      A Warden stands beside the scout, “We stand ready to make up for Clarel’s… tragic mistake. Where is Stroud?”

      Hawke bows her head and I swallow back the lump in my throat, “Warden Stroud died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight. We will honour his sacrifice and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens. Even as Corypheus and his servants tried to destroy you all from within.”

      “Inquisitor,” says the Warden. “We have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?”

      I blink. What should I say? Let them stay… but then they are exposed to corruption still. And if I send them away? What if a Blight strikes the land, we’d have no one to fend for us… yet what they did was unimaginable.

      I clench my fists, regretting the choice already, “You stay and do whatever you can to help. Stroud died for the ideals of the Wardens. In war, victory. And we are still at war. Do you believe the Wardens can still help?”

      “I do, Your Worship,” nods the Warden.

      “You’re still vulnerable to Corypheus and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

      I see Cassandra’s face fall, but she doesn’t say anything.

      Hawke turns to me, “While they do that, I’ll inform the Wardens at Weisshupt what’s happened. Best they not get caught off guard.”

      “Thank you, Your Worship. We will not fail you,” says the Warden.

      The Wardens peel off the help with the clean up. The sun has come up now and we will be heading back to Skyhold soon, the Wardens in tow.

      I do hope I’ve made the right decision though.

      The others do the same, so Hawke and I walk together. Varric joins us and smiles at Hawke.

      “You’ve got a lot more blood ahead of you,” she says. “Fight well.”

      I nod.

      “Ah, nothing we haven’t handled before,” says Varric.

      Hawke smiles, “You always look on the bright side.”

      “Someone’s got to.”

      We reach the entrance to the fortress and Hawke looks out over the sand dunes, “It would be best if I got going now.”

      Varric frowns, “Ah, come on Hawke, maybe just a little longer? Tiny and I are buying drinks.”

      She smiles, “I’m afraid not, Varric. I… I’ll need you to write to Anders. Tell him about what happened.”

      Varric nods slowly, “I’m sure Blondie will love to hear you’re leaving him.”

      “Only for a few weeks. I’m sure he can take care of himself.” Hawke envelops Varric in a tight hug and then pulls away, “Take care of yourself, alright? And make sure your talk to the Seeker.”

      Varric frowns, “What?”

      Hawke just nods, “Talk to her. Seduce her with that chest hair of yours.”

      Hawke and I share a grin and I nod, “I’ll make sure he does.”

      “Inquisitor, I thank you for your hospitability. It’s truly been an honour. I’m sure we will meet again soon.”

      “Maker stay with you.”

      “And you.” She turns and hefts her pack over her shoulders. With one last look at Varric, she disappears over the sand dunes.

      Varric sighs, “She better stay safe.”

      “I’m sure she’ll be fine. After everything she’s been through, walking to a Grey Warden fortress won’t be too hard.”

      “I hope you’re right, Stumbles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good bye Hawke!!! I didn’t really like that she/ he just went away and then you don’t really know what happens to them :( But, I guess we’ll just have to find out in the next game! I hope you enjoyed the little fluffy scenes in this chapter and stay groovy my minions.


	44. Chapter 43

Celebratory drinks are certainly a great pick me up from our wonderful trek through the Fade. The Inquisition not only celebrates the victory of defeating the demon army, but also rejoices in the new allies: The Grey Wardens.

      Cassandra, Harding and I sit together, talking about our battle wounds together. Scout Harding managed to obtain a scar on her leg from a Warden’s sword. Certainly deep, but she seems fine. I can see Leliana and Josephine sitting together, the spymaster filling Josie in of what happened.

      Cassandra doesn’t drink, but she watches everyone. It’s only when Cullen walks over to our table that she speaks, “Harding, did you want to come we me to get everyone drinks?”

      Harding blinks, interrupted from her story. But her eyes travel to Cullen then back to Cassandra, “Oh yeah. I’m running quite low.” Her cup is full. Cassandra and Harding leave me alone with Cullen as he awkwardly sits down.

      “Commander,” I nod.

      He clears his throat, “How are you, Lydia?”

      I draw a ragged breath, “Fine now that it’s over… I… I just…”

      His hand shoots across the table, his warm fingers gripping mine. It’s definitely a comfort and I smile at him.

      “If you need anything, anything at all, I’m here for you,” he says.

      “How about those victory drinks?”

      He smiles softly, “I’d love that.”

      It isn’t long before my mind forgets about the horrors of the Fade. While speaking to Cullen, everything seems to become nonexistent. It’s just him and me. And it truly is wonderful.

      He talks to me about everything other than the Fade, thank the Maker.

      Cullen and I continue talking through the night while Harding and Cassandra give us some privacy.

      After midnight, Cullen walks me back to my quarters and with a kiss and a good night, he leaves me.

      That night, I try to sleep, even with Cullen’s kiss still on my lips, but nightmares plague my mind, the images of spiders, Stroud and Corypheus almost too much to bear.

 

+++

 

The advisors thought it be best if we take a break for a while, relieved from our duties for a week. I welcome the break. Getting up early certainly isn’t something I miss.

      I trudge down to the Great Hall and I’m surprised to see Varric standing at the fireplace, watching the flames. Walking towards him, I don’t say anything.

      He sighs, not even turning around, “I knew Stroud, you know? Not well. He saved Hawke’s little sister from the Blight. Not many people knew who he was, but the man was a hero when it mattered. He wasn’t the first good man to fall to Corypheus, and he won’t be the last. This story’s no good for heroes.” He turns to me.

      “You must be glad that Hawke made it back in one piece…”

      “Yeah. Closest thing I’ve ever seen to a miracle, there.” He sighs, “Hawke asked me to tell everyone back in Kirkwall where she’s going. I’ll have to let Bethany know. I’m sure she’ll take it well.” Chuckling, he smiles at me, “But let’s have some breakfast first.”

      We both grab a plate of food and sit at the wooden tables. Some people smile and nod at us, but continue on with their duties.

      Something comes to mind, “Have you spoken to Cassandra yet?”

      Varric shoots me a look, “You’d be surprised, but yes. She thanked me for cleaning her wounds.”

      I grin, “Does that mean a thank you kiss?”

      “Nothing as exciting, I’m afraid.”

      “Perhaps you should be the one to ki—”

      “No. She’d punch me in the face. Again.”

      I sigh, “Fine. But you know, you could always try. Perhaps another chapter of _Swords & Shields_.”

      He laughs, “Maker’s tits… I’ll have to see what I can do. After all, the Guard Captain still isn’t out of trouble yet.”

      The rest of our meal is in silence, but I’m too hungry to care.

      “Do you know where Cassandra is?” I ask.

      He stares at me, “Why?”

      “Because I’m going to ask if she wants to read with me. Don’t worry, it’s nothing about you…”

      Varric just shakes his head, “I don’t want to know what you two talk about. She’s probably training as always. Never has time for anything else. But, if you excuse me, I’ve got letters to write.”

      “Reading with the Seeker is so much better.”

      “I really don’t believe that.”

      Waving him away, I head towards the forge. Cassandra’s either smashing the crap out of the practice dummies or in her quarters.

      The dummies are left free for the morning, so I head to her quarters.

      The door to the forge is already open. I stop for a second, wondering why Cassandra would leave it so. After all, the cold drafts that blow through Skyhold at sunrise really aren’t appropriate for open doors. Even if she does sleep above the forges. I blink when voices float from inside. 

      “You asked for my opinion and I’ve given it. Why would you expect if the change?” It’s Cassandra. But her opinion about what?

      I peek my head in and see Cassandra standing in the middle of the forge, arms crossed. The smiths have all gone to grab a bite to eat, finished with their duties for today. But then I see Cullen standing with his head bowed.

      He straightens, eyes focused on Cass, “I expect you to keep your word. It’s relentless. I can’t—”

      “You give yourself too little credit,” snaps Cassandra.

      Cullen shakes his head, “If I’m unable to fulfill what vows a kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than admit—”

      The door I lean against creaks and I spring away, hoping not to make a noise. But Cullen and Cassandra are both staring at me.

      I step inside the forge, a hand to the back of my neck as I try to think of something to say.

      But Cullen turns, his shoulders slumped, “Forgive me.” And he walks past me, heading for the door.

      Cassandra watches him, “And people say _I’m_ stubborn. This is ridiculous.”

      I watch him leave the building.

      Cassandra turns to me, “Cullen told you that he’s no longer taking Lyrium?”

      I blink, “Yes… and I respect that decision.”

      “As do I. Not that he’s willing to listen. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.” I frown, but she holds up a hand and continues, “I refused. It’s not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

      “Why didn’t he come to me?” I ask. He can tell me anything…

      “We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers. And he wouldn’t want to… risk your disappointment.”

      “Disappointment?” I ask. “I wouldn’t be…” I swallow, “Is there anything we can do to change his mind.”

      He was perfectly fine last night… and at Adamant. Unless he’s been dealing with these inner demons for longer than Cassandra and I have both known about.

      Cassandra regards me, “If anyone could, it’s you. Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their Lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself—and anyone who would follow suit—that it’s possible. He _can_ do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall.”

      I nod, eyes on the fire. I never thought about the withdrawal from Lyrium. I never knew how much they actually suffered.

      Cassandra places a hand on my shoulder, “Talk to him, Lydia. Decide if now is the time.”

      I hang my head, “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

      “You always find the right words, Lydia. Follow your heart.”

      Rubbing my temple, I sigh, “I’ll… I’ll go talk to him now.”

     

     

+++

 

It takes me 20 minutes walking back and forth between the battlements before I work up the courage to go and talk to him.

      Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and see him standing over a wooden case. A yell escapes his throat and in one move he slaps the case away. It flies straight for me and the only thing I can do is duck as it hits the door frame.

      “Maker’s breath!” He breathes, “I didn’t hear you enter. I—” He shakes his head, “Forgive me.”

      “Cullen,” I say, stepping inside his office with a glance at the case, “If you need to talk…”

      “You don’t have to—” He stumbles, a hand going to his desk to catch himself. He groans and I walk towards him, but he holds up a hand, “I never meant for this to interfere.”

      Standing in front of him, I meet his gaze, “Are you going to be alright?”

      “Yes,” he says quickly. But looks away, “I don’t know. You asked what happened to Fereldan’s Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The Templars—my friends—were slaughtered.”

      I don’t know why he’s telling me this now.

      He turns away from me, rubbing his head and looking out the little slit in the stone wall. “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I—how can you be the same person after that?” His voice is flat, tired even. “Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness.”

      It never occurred to me what he’d been through before this. Before Cassandra took him away from his past life.

      I struggle to find words, but Cullen continues, “Kirkwall’s Circle fell, innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?” He turns to me, eyes hard.

      “Of course I can. I—”

      “Don’t,” he cuts. “You should be questioning what I’ve done.”

      I turn away from him, trying to hide my frown. He hadn’t done anything wrong… I shouldn’t be questioning him.

      He walks over to me, “I thought this would be better—that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me…”

      He paces in front of me and I stare at him.

      “How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause…” He’s getting frantic now, voice raised, eyes wild. “I will _not_ give less to the Inquisition than _I_ did the Chantry. I should be taking it!” He punches his book shelf and tomes scatter over the ground. “I should be taking it.”

      It dawns on me that ‘it’ is the Lyrium.

      It takes me a couple of seconds to get over the shock of this whole conversation, “This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what _you_ want?” I step closer to him, eyes stern and he meets my gaze, expression equally as ferocious. His fists and clenched.

      Exhaling, we still watch each other, “No…” And his fingers uncurl and he hangs his head, eyes moving from mine.

      I step closer to him, a hand coming to rest on his arm.

      He glances at my hand, eyes slowly traveling to my face as he speaks, “But… these memories have always haunted me—if they become worse, if I cannot ensure this…”

      He goes to say something, but I stop him with a hand on his chest, “You can.”

      Cullen blinks slowly, “Alright.” I can see the fire return to his eyes.

      I kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand.

      I leave him, partly because I can’t believe I managed to convince him to stop taking the Lyrium or because I’m just too awkward to say anything else.

      But, I can’t wipe the smile off my face, even when Cassandra and I head to the library for some smutty reading sessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy Cullen and Lydia goodness in this chapter!! I hope you enjoyed! We’re getting closer to that smutty time of the story ;) And we've finally reached 100 kudos!! I want to say thank you to everyone that's read the story, commented or placed a kudo, thank you so much! You are all lovely people and you give me so many inspiration to continue writing!


	45. Chapter 44

Five days pass since my talk with Cullen and it’s been truly and utterly boring. In those five days, I’ve written a ten page report on the Fade, ate some cake with Sera and finally finished all current chapters of _Swords & Shields_.

      I’m called away from my lunch when I hear shouting from the courtyard. The only mildly interesting thing that’s happened in five days.

      Rushing down the stairs, I see that people have started crowding around the archery targets. I push my way towards the front… though I wouldn’t call it pushing when everyone steps out of the way for me.

      Varric, Sera, Harding, Bull, Krem and Cassandra stand in a circle but they all turn to me when I appear.

      Iron Bull breaks out into a grin, “You’re just to person we need, boss!”

      “Agreed,” huffs Varric. “Stumbles can decide.”

      “Decide… what… who?” I ask.

      “Ugh. They want to know who the better archer is. I say Harding.”

      “Piss and balls, I can shoot better than anyone here,” argues Sera.

      “I don’t think so Buttercup,” says Varric. “Bianca is the best shooter in all of Thedas.”

      Iron Bull and I share a glance and he smiles knowingly at me.

      I clear my throat, “A competition then?”

      Harding grins, “I like that idea, Inquisitor.”

      And so preparations get under way. Targets are placed in a line for the three competitors and the crowd backs away. Cassandra shoots me a playful eye roll.

      Once competitors and crowd alike are ready, I hold up my hand, the mark sparking to life. Everyone turns their attention to me. Even the advisors have come down to watch the competition.

      “Inquisition!” I yell. “Are you ready for the greatest archery contest that’s ever taken place in Thedas? Dwarf, elves, humans and Qunari will remember this moment for thousands of years. Varric will write a story and who knows… it might be as scandalous as _Swords & Shields_, right Cassandra?”

      She just grumbles something beside me and hides her face with her hand.

      I grin, “Our three competitors today will each take three shots. The closest to the middle on all three shots wins… easy?”

      Sera nods, “You bet.”

      Harding smiles at me, stringing her bow.

      Varric chuckles, “Bianca’s as ready as ever.”

      Sera shoots first, taking her time as she lines up her first shoot. As she pulls the strong back, I never knew how much she could actually concentrate. I’ve never seen her this still. And then she opens her mouth, “Bits up, face down!”

      Cassandra sighs and the elf lets her arrow fly, the arrow hitting the target a few inches left of the center.

      “Tits!” She yells.

      Next is Harding and she simply lines up her shot and takes one breath behind firing. The arrow wobbles, a few inches from the center, much like Sera’s.

      The Scout giggles, “Practice shot. My fingers keep shaking from the nerves.”

      I laugh at her comment, yet a small ripple goes through the crowd as Varric hefts Bianca to his shoulder. Then he stops, “Hang on…” He places the crossbow on the ground, ever so gently and rips his tunic off, thicker than his other ones because of the cold winds of Skyhold.

      Bull whistles loudly, “Showing off your chest hair are you, dwarf?”

      “I need the extra movement, Tiny. My tunic’s too small.”

      Bull just gives him a thunderous laugh, “You keep believing that.”

      My eyes flick to Cassandra and her hand hovers next to my arm, seemingly unsure whether to grab it or not. But her eyes are on Varric’s toned chest. And when he lifts his cross bow, that’s when her hand shoots out to grab my arm.

      The Seeker’s eyes flick to me and I grin at her, “Like what you see?”

      “No, I just don’t want him to win.” She rips her hand from my arm and crosses them over her chest. “He’s going to catch a cold like that…”

      “Not that you’re complaining.”

      She shoots me another look as Varric fires, a bolt landing straight in the center.

      Cassandra scoffs, “Lucky shot.”

      And so the next round begins with people placing bets on who they think is going to win. Bull bets for Sera while Dorian backs Varric. Cassandra places a copper in for Harding and soon the tables fill up on coin. Varric seems to be the favourite, but that’s to be expected because… it’s Varric.

      The second round is much the same, back we mix up the order. Varric shoots first, then Sera and then Harding. Harding and Sera improve their shots while Varric seems to be feeling the pressure.

      And we come to the last round.

      Varric holds Bianca to his shoulder and lines her up. But his eyes seem to glance around at the crowd and he spots Cassandra. He gives her a small smile before firing and the bolt flies into the target.

      When it stops wobbling, I can see that it has landed barely an inch from the center ring. He blinks and grumbles something.

      Next is Sera. She shoots me a grin and nocks an arrow, pointing it to the target.

      But then she turns to the crowd, still with her arrow nocked and everyone ducks as she looks around, swinging her bow back and forth. “Hey Vivvy?”

      Everyone still covers their heads as Sera searches for the mage.

      “Yes my dear?” comes Vivienne’s voice. The mage is unaffected by Sera’s swinging of her nocked bow.

      “Stick this up your ass!” Sera spins back and launches her arrow. It lands in the same place it did from her last two rounds.

      “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be a very good idea,” says Vivienne. “It wouldn’t fit.”

      Sera forgets about her shot and begins chuckling, “Everyone heard that, yeah? Vivvy’s got a small hole—!”

      “Manners, my dear.”

      I splutter back a laugh and Cassandra shoots me a look. I straighten and clear my throat, “Harding, your turn.”

      She lines up her bow and takes no time in adjusting. Her instincts are hardwired to quick shots.

      But her arrow lands exactly where Sera’s did and the crowd seems to gasp. Varric is out, that much I know for certain. But after each having three shots, two of them have tied.

      I blink, “Well I wasn’t expecting this. A tie…” Glancing around the courtyard, I try to think of a challenge. Then I grin, “Bring me four apples.”

      And so the apples are brought forth and I place two together on separate tables, one behind the other. My brothers used to do this for fun, even though none of them could shoot a bow probably. Though father could do this with ease.

      “You’ve only got to shoot your arrow in the center of both apples to win,” I explain. “For example, you can’t have the arrow only through one apple, it’s got to be both.”

      The Scout blinks, “Easy.” She gives me a nervous laugh.

      Sera nods, “Vivvy, would an apple fit?”

      “No dear, that’s way too big.” Vivienne gives me a look and rolls her eyes. I wink back at her and she just smiles, shaking her head.

      Sera laughs as she nocks an arrow, “Through two apples. Pfft.” And she shoots, sending the arrow flying into the two apples.

      The tip of the arrow shoots through the first one, and pierces through the second one, yet doesn’t go the whole way through.

      “Ass!”

      Cassandra looks at me, “Her shot is a little off center.”

      I grin just grin, “Harding, your turn.”

      The Scout looks at me then steps towards her mark. And so she lines up her shot, the crowd going quiet, even Sera has stopped her grumbling. I can see Harding’s fingers tremble as she pulls back the string.

      I hold my breath, and it seems everyone else does the same.

      In a blink of an eye, Harding looses the arrow and time seems to slow down as the arrow flies through the air. The tip passes through the first apple, then the second. Dead center. I have to do a double take to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.

      But she’s done it. She managed to get the arrow dead set in the center and through the two apples. I’ve never seen it done so perfect before.

      Varric smiles, “Harding’s won.”

      She turns to me, slightly shocked, yet Bull and the Chargers erupt in cheers.

      Someone scoops Harding into a tight hug, lifting her from the ground and twirling the Scout through the air. When he places her gently back on the ground, Krem clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. Harding herself is blushing profusely and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The couple stare at each other for a few seconds and the crowd goes quiet.

      Then Krem pulls Harding into a heated kiss and I scream in delight, hands in the air. Even Cassandra gives the couple a smile. And the crowd erupts into cheers.

      When Krem pulls away, he grins at Harding.

      About time those two made a move. 

      “Drinks are on the Chargers tonight!” yells Bull.

      And more cheers erupt from the scouts around us.

      The crowd soon disperses, headed to either the tavern or the dining hall. Some whine about losing their money, while others celebrate their new winnings.

      Harding waltzes over to me, her eyes dreamy, “If that’s what I win if I shoot through some apples, where do I sign up?” Her eyes drift over to Krem as he goes into the tavern.

      “Go have a few drinks with him,” I suggest.

      She looks at me, “Me? Oh, I wouldn’t have a clue what to say.”

      “Just be yourself,” I urge. “Krem obviously likes that.”

      “You think so?”

      “I do.”

      She smiles, “Alright. Wish me luck, Inquisitor.”

      I wink at her, “Just be as cute as you usually are.”

      She blushes at that, “Oh… I… thank you. I’ll see you later.”

      “Perhaps. Unless you’re busy with Krem.”

      “Busy… Oh… Oh?” She coughs. “If I’m lucky.”

      I grin as she walks slowly into the tavern. She stops at the entrance, gives a quick glance back at Cassandra and I, then proceeds in.

      Varric walks towards us, grumbling, “Bianca was a little tired.” His tunic is wrapped around his arm, like he can’t be bothered to put it back on. Skyhold is quite cold.

      “Oh?” I say.

      “Shut it Stumbles, I don’t want to hear a word come from your mouth.”

      “What about Cassandra’s? I’ll just get her to talk for me.”

      He hesitates, “You’re fine, Seeker. You at least won’t tease me. You’d only punch me.”

      Cassandra swallows, “I’m sorry. About earlier. With that punch.”

      I blink, hardly believing what she just said.

      Varric coughs, “Beg your pardon. I didn’t catch that Seeker.”

      She rolls her eyes, “I am sorry.”

      “Oh! I’ll mark this on my calendar—Cassandra has a feeling!”

      “Perhaps not that sorry,” growls Cassandra, pushing Varric from her path.

      I shoot Varric a look and we both walk after her.

      “Great going,” I hiss at him.

      Without turning to us, she speaks, “Lydia, would you care to have a drink?”

      “I’d love that Cass.”

      “Can I come?” asks Varric. “I did loss half my dignity after all.”

      “No.” Cassandra swings around to face us. “You can’t come.” Her eyes are burning with fire, face twisted in anger.

      Varric managed to destroy the already fragile relationship between them.

      But then the Seeker’s eyes soften, “I am only kidding. Remember, you are not my prisoner anymore. You can do as you wish; have a drink with us or not.”

      My eyes flick to Varric, “Though our conversations are a little far from your taste.”

      Varric shows a quick look of relief then tilts his head, “I don’t see how your conversations could be any worse than Sparkler and Tiny’s. They could certainly write _Swords & Shields _the way they talk about their… time together.”

      “No, you must be the one to write it!” says Cassandra, stepping towards the dwarf, her hand pressed against his bare chest. I stare at her hand, which is buried in his chest hair. Turning my head, I try to stop the laugh bubbling on the edge of my throat. Cassandra straightens from her burst of excitement and pulls her hand from his chest. Clearing her throat, she keeps her gaze on the ground, “It just wouldn’t be the same.”

      Varric blinks in shock, then grins lazily, “Well. I am but a humble writer serving for his fans.”

      “Remember that when you write the next chapter of _Swords & Shields_.”

      He laughs, “Of course.”

                                                                                                                                               

     

+++

 

The morning air is crisp and fresh, filling my lungs with much needed freshness. I hadn’t slept well since the Fade, the nightmares still plaguing me.

      The snowy mountains spread out as far as I can see, the white caps all blurring into one. Hawkes circle above me, in search of food.

      It’s only when I open my eyes that I see Cullen standing on the battlement on my left. I’m hidden by the set of stairs.

      He breathes in the air, a smile playing along his lips.

      I slowly make my way down the stairs, hoping to have a chat with him. Though nerves begin to swirl in the pit of my stomach.

      I had never noticed before, but he looks much better than the days before his decision. He had always seemed tired. I thought the bags under his eyes were from Adamant’s challenges, but now even their gone. After only five nights rest, he’s better. Imagine him in a few months. In years. His structured jaw line is caked in stubble, his blonde hair looks soft to touch. And those brown eyes.

      I misjudge the step and feel my foot falling. I let out a scream and stumble to gain balance. Cullen leaps towards me and I feel his strong arms wrap around me.

      “Maker… are you alright?”

      I blink, “Ah… yes. I was, um, distracted. By the view.”

      He clears his throat as I straighten and step from his arms, though my heart protests.

      Cullen smiles, “I wanted to thank you… when you came to see me…” He scratches the back of his head, “If there’s anything…” He exhales and looks away, “This sounded much better in my head.”

      “I trust you’re feeling better?” I ask, swallowing.

      “I… yes.”

      “Is it always that bad?”

      “The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as if I’m back there… I should not have pushed myself so far that day.”

      “I’m just glad you’re alright,” I say with a smile.

      “I am.” He turns to look out over the mountains. “I’ve never told anyone what truly happened to me at Fereldan’s Circle. I was… not myself after that. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me. I’m not proud of the man that made me.”

      I come to stand next to him.

      “Now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It’s a start.”

      “For what it’s worth, I like who you are now,” I say, feeling the heat coming to my cheeks.

      He turns to me, “Even after…?”

      I stop him with a hand on his chest, “Cullen, I care about you. You’ve done nothing to change that.”

      He blinks and smiles at me, “What about you? You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?”

      I try not to think about how many times I’ve escaped death, the spiders that attacked me in the Fade, Corypheus, the Archdemon, the nightmares, Stroud or my family. But they break through my barriers. “Honestly, I’m terrified. So many people depend on us. On me. Corypheus is still out there.”

      “We’ve made great strides, Lydia. Do not doubt yourself—or the Inquisition—just yet. If there’s anything I can do, you have only to ask.”

      His hands wraps around my waist and pulls me into a deep kiss. His lips are soft, the familiar stubble scratching at my skin.

      But I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scout Harding and Krem are truly beautiful human/ dwarf beings. I absolutely love them to bits and I just had to have a fluffy scene with them!! And of course Cass is trying to feel Varric's chest hair whenever she can!! And of course more Cullen and Lydia goodness. Ah, the chapter of many ships. Stay extra groovy friends.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My groovy friends, you have been warned. This chapter will contain the sassytime. If you know what I mean… *winks* This is my first time writing anything like this so please be gentle my good readers.

Cassandra and I sit in front of the fireplace in the dining hall, sipping our hot cocoas and reading quietly. It’s particularly cold today, the icy winds drifting through Skyhold’s walls. Cassandra and I huddle together for warmth and it’s nice to relax for a little while.

      I shiver, “Maker it’s cold. Maybe I should steal Cullen’s furry cloak.”

      Cassandra looks up from her book, “You haven’t worn that yet?”

      Blinking, I shake my head, “No. Why would I?”

      She takes a sip of her cocoa, “No reason. I just thought…”

      “Thought what?” I ask, shifting towards her.

      “Nothing.”

      We stare at each other for a few seconds.

      I’m the first to turn away, “Maker… you thought… we’d… done…”

      She snorts, “The way you two look at each other… I just thought you might have.” She blinks, “You haven’t have you?”

      “No! Of course not!”

      Her lips are pursed, “Do you want to?”

      “Cassandra, since when do you ask all these questions? I’m the one who should be asking you. Speaking of which, how is Va—”

      “You are nervous.”

      “What? Why would I be?”

      Cassandra smiles at me, “You’re thinking of him.”

      “Because you just asked if I had… if I had…” I meet her gaze. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

      Cassandra leans forward, “You care for him, do you not? And I know he cares for you. And you both trust each other.”

      I nod slowly, “Yes…”

      “That is all you need. Andraste will guide you through the rest.” She smiles, “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

      I let out a laugh, “I’ll try to remember that.” I stare at the ground for a few seconds then turn to her, “Thank you Cassandra.”

      “It is what friends do for each other,” she says.

      “Much like friends helping you get back together with a dwarf that shall not be named.”

      “Much like that, yes.”

                                                                                                                                             

+++

 

“We have to reach the Empress before Corypheus,” says Cullen, startling me from my thoughts. Not about him… Andraste preserve me, not about him… “The only question is: how?”

      Josephine looks up from her board, “We know how. I have our way in. The real questions is: where is our enemy hiding?” She turns to me, “At the urging of Grand Duchess Florianne, the Empress is holding a ball. Absolutely everyone will be there.”

      “When is it?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from the windows. The sun is setting over Skyhold and the rays of sunlight are quite beautiful. Even if it is a cold day.

      “Not for another two months. Yet it would be best to start preparing. During the festivities, Celene will be meeting for peace talks with the usurper Duke Gaspard and Ambassador Briala.”

      “The assassin must be hiding within one of these factions,” says Leliana.  

      “Do we need to go to the peace talks? The Empress must have personal guards. We could just warn her she’s in danger,” I say.

      “We’ve made the attempt, but…” Josephine doesn’t finish her sentence.

      “It seems that our messages never reached her. Someone intercepted them,” says Leliana.

      “It’s better that we don’t leave this to chance,” says Cullen. “If Orlais falls to Corypheus, no land is safe.”

      Josephine nods and looks at her board, “That is all we wish to discuss today. After all, we have two months to plan our move.”

      “Meeting dismissed,” I say.

      I head straight to the dining hall for some dinner, looking forward to a nice warm stew. Dorian, Cassandra and Harding sit at the table, waving me over.

      The dining hall is loud and restless as scout and soldiers file in to finally finish for the day. Yet Cullen I know still has a meeting with his soldiers.

      I try not to think about him as I eat, yet my mind always wonders to him.

      Curse Cassandra for having to ask about us.

      I try to keep up with the conversation, yet when Harding looks at me, a grin on her face, I hardly realise that they’ve asked me a question.

      Jerking, I glance at the three, “What. Sorry. I was thinking… about the ball.”

      Harding still grins, “I asked if you were going to wear a dress to the ball.”

      My eyes flick to Cassandra, “Only if the Seeker will.”

      She scoffs, “I think not.”

      “Oh, you’d both look wonderful,” says Harding. “And Dorian, you’d look very handsome.”

      “And you my Lace, would be the most beautiful dwarf there,” says Dorian.

      Harding blushes, “Oh. You’re too kind Lord Pavus.”

      The rest of dinner is light conversation and with our meals are finished, Harding and Dorian move off to their quarters.

      Cassandra stands and looks at me, “Cullen wanted to speak with you. About the ball.”

      I blink. What does he want to say that he couldn’t in the war room? I walk with Cassandra, “Alright. I’ll… go see him now.”

      She nods and peels away from me and I walk towards his office alone. The sun has truly disappeared now, the fires in the braziers throwing shadows across the courtyard. It’s a quiet time for most here, when the sun goes down, we are left to do whatever we want.

      My footsteps echo as I climb the stairs and as I cross between battlements. Guards on duty nod at me and I smile back. I make sure they’re warm and their bellies are full before heading towards Cullen’s office.

      I can hear him talking even with the door closed.

      “Rylen’s men will monitor the situation.”

      “Yes, ser,” comes a female’s voice. “We’ll begin preparations at once.”

      I open the door slowly to see Cullen’s soldiers standing around his desk. I slip into the room, unseen by the soldiers.

      The Commander holds a piece of parchment in his hand, “In the meantime, we’ll send soldiers to…” His eyes meet mine. “Ah… assist with the relief effort.”

      I can’t help but smile.

      “That will be all,” he says.

      “Ser!” says the woman. The soldiers begin to file from his office and Cullen helps them out. I smile at them as they walk past me.

      He closes the door softly and rests his hands on the wood, “There’s always something more, isn’t there. Now the ball…”

      I laugh, “Wishing you were somewhere else?”

      He chuckles, “I barely found time to get away before.” He pushes himself from the door and walks towards his desk, “This war won’t last forever. When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond survival. But things are different now.”

      I walk towards him, “What do you mean?”

      He doesn’t meet my eyes, “I found myself wondering what will happen after.” He turns to me, “When this is over, I won’t want to move on… not from you.” His gloved hand gently caresses my cheek.

      My heart skips a beat. 

      Then he looks away, “But I don’t know what you—that is,” he moves to lean over his desk, embarrassed. “If you, ah…”

      “Cullen. Do you need to ask?” I say, pulling his arm to get his attention.

      I sit on the edge of his desk for fear that my knees would give out.

      He leans towards me, “I suppose not. I—”

      My hand steadies myself, but a glass vial wobbles from my hand brushing against it. I gasp and try to catch the vial, but it smashes against the ground before I can do anything.

      I cast my eyes back to Cullen, “I’m so sor—”

      But just sweeps the rest of his things from the wooden desk and wraps his arms around me.

      With my back pressed against the wooden and Cullen on top of me, a hundred things are racing through my head at once.

      His lips are on mine, gentle, yet urgent. It seems as though he draws the very breath from my lungs, each time his hands slide down my hips. My own hands press against the cold armour, yet I long to feel what’s beneath it.

      I take a breath through the kisses, “Cullen… I thought you had something to ask me?”

      He just smiles, “It must have slipped my mind.”

      My fingers move to tangle in his blonde hair as he shifts into a better position. I must say, I’ve never had the pleasure of kissing someone on their desk. It’s thrilling experience to say the least.

      He stops, hands slipping from my hips, “I want to show you something.”

      And so he takes me by the hand, leading me to the ladder. I climb it first, trying hard not to let my shaking hands show.

      When Cullen joins me on the second level, I look around. There’s a large bed in the middle of the floor, along with a side table, a lone candle burning. The sun has set by now, long shadows thrown across the walls.

      “I had no idea this was where you slept.”

      Cullen laughs, “It’s not as... luxurious as your quarters.”

      I smile, “It’s small… I like it.”

      His hand slides across my cheek and down to my chin, gently tilting my head up.

      I gasp.

      Stars shine in the sky above us, twinkling in the night sky. The moon, full and round truly takes my breath away.

      “This is why you keep your ceiling like that,” I gasp. The hole in the ceiling is at least twice the size of Cassandra’s shield.

      Cullen nods, his hand slipping into mine, “I tend to star gaze a lot.” His fingers trail up my neck and to my cheeks. I keep my eyes on his.

      It’s just him and me. No Corypheus, no Rifts, no Inquisition. Just us for tonight. Andraste preserve me, I could never tell him how long I’ve been thinking of this night.

      I’m on the bed, Cullen on top of me, furry cloak spread around me. He pulls away from our kiss and gives me a smile before returning his lips to mine. 

      His lips travel to my neck, gentle as always. He is warm against my cold skin, protecting me from the cold drafts sneaking through the broken ceiling.

      My fingers entwine with his own and he kisses the pale flesh on my knuckles. With one strong hand he pulls both of my hands above me. He kisses my neck, kisses my ear, kisses my lips.

      But I jerk from his hand—Maker curse me— when he brushes against the hem of my shirt.

      He, in all his manners, takes it as a bad sign and stops his touches, stops his kisses. He turns away from me, “Maker I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have—”

      “Cullen,” I say softly, pressing a hand against his cheek to stop him from leaving. I can feel him lean into my touch, “Cullen… I’m sorry… I’ve just never done this before… It’s all new to me.”

      He swallows.

      “I mean, I know how it works… but I just… this is…” I struggle to find the right words.

      “Lydia, you’d trust me with… this?”

      I blink, “Of course Cullen, why wouldn’t I?”

      “Because I’m just…”

      “The man I trust. The man I want to do this with.”

      His expression softens, “Maker, I never thought you’d say that.”

      I relax, the mattress soft against my back, Cullen’s weight pressed against my stomach.

      “Are you sure?”

      I nod, “I haven’t been more certain in my life.”

      He smiles at me, yet doesn’t touch my shirt again, instead keeping his hands busy by tracing the inked tattoo on my face.

      My hands move to unbuckle the armour against his chest. I fumble with the buckles, hands trembling.

      Cullen’s own hands wrap around mind and stops me, “Here, let me help with that.”

      In a few quick movements, the chest plate falls to the floor and he spreads his furry cloak over the edge of the bed. And just as quickly as the chest plate, he manages to slip the rest of his armour off. He’s in thin cotton pants and a tunic: I’ve hardly seen him with his armour off, perhaps only once out of the many months I’ve known him.

      He pulls his tunic over his head and I’m greeted to his muscular chest. I run my hands along his lean muscles and Maker he’s all I could ever hope for. His skin is tanned, arms toned from his training and the scares that nick his skin each have their own individual story that I can’t wait to hear.

      I try not to blush when strong fingers tug at the golden buttons of my tunic.

      Cullen’s chocolatey eyes search mine, waiting for me to call it off. To run away from him. But I stay where I am. There is no place I’d rather be.

      His fingers brush against the soft skin of my stomach and the gasp that escapes my throat surprises me. It’s not a gasp of surprise, but a gasp of pleasure.

      He reaches up, fingers moving along my skin, sliding the tunic from my shoulders. I discard it next to his armour.

      My mouth is dry as his fingers come to the strings of my breast band. Never before have I been naked in front of a man.

      I give him a nod when he hesitates and in a smooth pull, the breast band is removed from my chest.

      Cullen doesn’t stare, no, he’s too well-mannered for that, but Maker, his hands trail along my sides, along my stomach and to my breasts.

      “Lydia… you’re beautiful.”

      Heat pools in the pit of my stomach, like nothing I’ve felt before. Sure, I’ve had crushes before, but nothing ever going this far.

      Cullen’s fingers brush against an old scar on my hip and I trace the contours of his shoulders. His fingers come to the necklace around my neck, “This is the necklace I gave you…” Cullen gently plays with the Halla charm and then he notices the coin. His good luck coin, “You kept this?”

      “Of course, it’s not something I would just throw out. You gave it to me.”

      “Well… it’s just an old coin.”

      “A lucky coin. It saw me through the Fade…”

      Our eyes meet and he smiles, his lips coming to my neck. And we continue, my fingers trapped in his curly blonde hair.

      “I thought you were dead,” whispers Cullen. “When you went through that Rift, I thought I had lost you forever…”

      I hug him tighter, his face buried in the crook of my neck, “I would never leave you.”

      “Maker, that night, I didn’t think I’d ever be doing this with you.”

      I smile, kissing his cheek, “And I never thought I’d be doing this either.”

      His lips return to mine and we are embraced by silence.

      We’re content like this for a few minutes, his hands trailing up and down my sides, while my own fingers move along the many scars along his body.

      And we don’t say anything as I fumble with the fastenings on his pants.

      Then his breath catches in his throat and I stop, eyes flicking to him.

      He holds my hand, examining the mark, glowing a faint green. It seems to do that when adrenaline is rushing through me. Which it most certainly is right now. My heart is hammering in my chest—I’m surprised Cullen can’t feel it.

      But, I can tell he’s nervous, distracting himself by examining the mark. Perhaps it makes this more real… more intimate. Both of us _care_ what happens tonight.

      Yet when his eyes meet mine, he seems to relax and allows me to continue, though I’m shitting myself. I have no clue what I’m doing, Maker… Andraste…

      I blink. Keep it together Lydia. You’re the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, best friend of the Seeker and a Trevelyan.

      I’m pushing the fabric down his legs and I urge myself not to stare. He’s certainly not as big as Bull. Thank Andraste… I don’t want to know how much that could have hurt.

      I can’t help but wonder as I start peppering his chest with kisses, if he’s even done this before. I never asked him and I’m too scared too now.

      His fingers fumble with my own pants and I can feel him shaking a little. I squeeze his arm in encouragement, though I don’t see how I can be much help when I’m a nervous disaster as well.

      Taking a quick breath, I lift my hips and Cullen slips the fabric from my body.

      In a heartbeat it’s just him and me.

      His kisses tickle my collar bones and trail along to my neck. I’m still working on not blushing, even though he seems perfectly fine with the way I am. And that fills me with warmth.

      Even with all the running around my team and I are burdened with, I really do love a good piece of chocolate cake… I’m certainly not as skinny as those Orlesian maidens. And Cassandra for that matter, but Maker, she’s probably more toned than Varric _and_ Cullen.

      I snap back into the blissful reality as Cullen’s lips leave my neck and trail down my stomach.

      I bite back a laugh, his stubble tickling my skin.

      It’s only when he kisses my hips that I bite back a curse. A ripple of fear runs through me, my fingers clutching the sheets beneath me.

      Cullen looks up at me, “Lydia? Are… are you alright.”

      “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m just…”

      “Nervous?”

      I nod slowly.

      “We don’t have to do this.”

      “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Cullen. You’re the one I want to do this with.”

      He smiles warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “Just relax, Lydia.”

      I take another breath, trying to ease some of the tension from my body. A throaty laugh escapes Cullen’s throat and he smiles at me.

      “What?” I ask. “Maker, I’m not very good at this.”

      His fingers ghost over my stomach, “You’re doing fine. I just… ah,” he clears his throat, “I need you to relax. I can’t, ah…”

      My eyes widen and I notice that my legs and squeezed tightly together, “Oh… you can’t get in.”

      He lets out a snort and I laugh, both easing the tension from our bodies.

      I’m relaxed with him… as relaxed as I can be.

      “I’m told this will help,” he says. But a strong blush brightens his cheeks as he pulls my leg around him.

      “What—” I almost stop breathing when his fingers move along my inner thigh and towards... oh _Maker_. My fingers clutch at his hair and I gasp as he finds the spot.

      Yet I can’t seem to control myself. He chuckles quietly and I wonder where he learnt to do this. _Swords & Shields_ perhaps… Oh but dear Maker, this is so much better than that.

      My back arches, chest heaving and his hair between my fingers. I clutch at the sheets below, reaching for anything to keep me grounded. But he continues, slowly and deliberately, almost as practiced as one of his training sessions. He places a kiss just above my hip, continuing his movements. And I can’t stop myself.

      A sound escapes my throat, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, my body shuddering. Cullen looks at me with a smile, a blush still tinging his cheeks as he comes to lean over me again.

      He places a kiss on my forehead and I lightly run the tips of my fingers down his back.

      “Are you sure about this Lydia?” he asks, still being a gentleman.

      “Cullen, like I said before, do you even need to ask?”

      That earns me a crooked smile and I brush a curl of his blonde hair from his face.

      When he touches my knee, my breath is a shudder, but I try to relax for him. Spreading my legs a little further apart, he keeps his eyes on me the whole time.

      When he eases into me, my body tenses instantly and Cullen stops, fear etching his face.

      He goes to pull out, yet I hold his arm, “No… I want this Cullen.”

      The Commander gives me a small smile and pulls me towards him. My fingers grip his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his shoulder, eyes shut tight.

      A small whimper escapes my throat, almost a groan. My hands move to his sides, his own coming to cup my hips.

      He moves gently, rocking slowly so I try relax into him.

      He begins with small thrusts and slowly, we discover our own rhythm. I peel my eyes open and ease my grip on his shoulders. Our lips graze against each other’s, his name trapped on the tip of my tongue.

      My hips seem to move on their own accord, seeking a pleasure I never knew existed. And it only then occurs to me that someone loves me. He wants to do this with me…

      My body trembles as we move together, his lips coming to the swell of my breasts. And there are so many new sensations… so many things to take in. His hands tracing my hips, my stomach, my collar bones. My hands snake across his own body, feeling the tense muscles in his back. It’s almost surreal that a man like Cullen, so handsome, so well-loved among the Inquisition, chose me. A cake loving, stumbling girl who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

      Cullen moves back to my lips, capturing the small whimpers that I can’t control.

      We’re more frantic now, harder, the candlelight spilling shadows across the plains of his chest. I kiss him, never wanting him to leave me. I knew the first time would hurt, yet I didn’t know pain could also feel so good.

      We move together, the faint green light from my mark moving as I trail my fingers along his skin.

      The Commander and the Inquisitor. I smile at that thought. Cullen’s breathing is ragged now and his grips my hips, trying to still be gentle, yet his last thrust is a little harder.

      And he loses control.

      He comes, his body shuddering against me, a groan echoing through the dark room. He leans his forehead against mine, damp from a sheet of sweat. He breaths heavily, his fingers absentmindedly skimming over my skin.

      “Cullen?”

      “Maker… thank you.”

      I blink, “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

      He slowly slides from me and pulls me into his strong arms. I curve around him, the last of my nerves leaving my limbs. His breath is hot on my face and I try to organize my thoughts, but there are too many of them to control.

      I smile at him and place a finger just above his lip, on the white scar, “Where’d you get this from?”

      He chuckles, pulling me tighter, “It was a senseless situation. One of my fellow Templars and I got into an argument about our shift rotations. He had a hidden dagger and… attacked me with it. Being one against five of us, we soon brought him down.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face, “Men always fight over the most pathetic things.” He places a quick kiss on my own scar, “What about you?”

      My fingers brush against the scar over my left eyebrow, “Mages and Templars accident. I was hiding from my brothers. I found a hiding spot along the castle walls. And, curse my balance, I fell.”

      He stiffens around me, “How far?”

      “Only a few metres, but my face hit the ground and a rock cut my brow.” I laugh softly, “It was the first of the many times I have tripped.”

      “Stumbles…” Cullen mumbles, a little drowsy. He pulls the warm blankets up to my shoulders and spreads the cloak out over the bed. “It will be cold tonight.”

      “I have you. That’s all I need.”

      I’m answered with a soft kiss.

      We fall into a lazy silence and I can’t wipe the smile from my face. For once, I don’t go to bed thinking of Corypheus or about my responsibilities. And it’s a small relief from everything that’s happened.

     

+++

 

A scream rips through the night and I sit bolt upright. My whole body is shaking and sweat beads down my back. With a startling jolt, I realise it was my scream.

      Arms wrap around me and pull into a tight embrace. I’m sitting in Cullen’s lap, trembling, tears pricking my eyes.

      His fingers splay over my back, “Lydia…?”

      I bring my face to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry I woke you… I’m so sorry.”

      He shakes his head, “Tell me.”

      “The Fade. I have nightmares of the Fade,” I choke back a sob, but I realise I’m naked, sitting in Cullen’s lap. I can feel the heat on my cheeks, yet my mind conjures the images from last night and I blush even more. Though he can’t see me in the dark room.

      His arms tighten around me and my frantic heart beats slows, comforted by his embrace. I rest my forehead on his shoulder, “When that spider bit me in the Fade… I nearly died from a heart attack.”

      A small chuckle escapes Cullen’s lips, “A heart attack was probably the least of your worries.”

      “I did have a spider on top of me. That was pretty bad.” My mind grasps for the remnants of the dream, yet all I can remember is Stroud and a spider.

      “Well, I’ll make sure no spider ever does that again,” whispers Cullen.

      Now I laugh, “Good.”

      He slowly pushes me onto my back, my head resting against the soft pillow, as he strokes the hair from my face.

      I fall asleep in Cullen’s arms and I don’t dream again that night.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOhhhHhh my. That was the first time I’ve ever written something like that and man was it hard. I had no clue what I was doing and I was blushing just trying to find the right words. I did hope it came off as a little awkward, because, I mean, Stumbles and Cullen are probably the most awkward people ever. Let’s face it. But yes, I do hope you enjoyed. I’ve bumped the rating up to the adult contend rating, so children avert your eyes! Stay groovy my friends, stay safe.


	47. Chapter 46

I walk towards Iron Bull and he nods at me, “Hey boss.”

      Before I can say something about the Dreadnought, the elf comes towards us.

      He nods at me, “Inquisitor, it is my duty to inform you that there will be no alliance between our peoples. Nor will you be receiving any more Ben-Hassrath reports from your Tal-Vashoth ally.”

      Bull cocks his head, “You under orders to kill me, Gatt?”

      “No,” says the elf. “The Ben-Hassrath have already lost one good man. They’d rather not lose two.” He bows to me and turns on his heel, leaving Bull and I alone.

      Bull turns to me, “So much for that.”

      “I’m proud of you, Bull,” I say. Even though I feel guilty.

      He chuckles, “Thanks, boss.”

      Krem smiles at me as he readies his shield.

      Bull glares at his lieutenant, “You’re late.”

      “Sorry Chief. Still sore from fighting off all those vints.” He nods at me, “Good to see you, Inquisitor.”

      “How are you holding up, Krem?” I ask.

      “I’m alright, thanks for asking Your Worship. A few scratches, but I can show them off to anyone who asks.”

      I grin, “Like Harding?”

      He coughs, “I… ah—” He spins as Bull charges towards him, shield up. Krem blocks Bull’s attack with ease.

      A sense of pride ripples across Bull’s face, “Ah. Forget it. You’re doing fine.”

      I leave the two alone and walk across the courtyard. I can’t help but feel extremely guilty for what I did. Yet it was between saving the Chargers or the Dreadnought.

      There was no way I was going to let the Chargers die.

      Krem had thanked me behind Bull’s back, he knew what the choices were. He knew the consequences of our decision.

      Iron Bull: Tal-Vashoth. A betrayer to the Qunari. All because he didn’t want to see his men die.

      Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and my thoughts wonder to last night…

      Even now, I still blush from the very idea that him and me…

      “Inquisitor?” comes a small voice.

      I spin to see Harding standing in front of me. Her eyes flick from my gaze and she lowers her head, “I heard about Iron Bull and the Chargers. It’s truly sad to see Iron Bull as a Tal-Vashoth.”

      I smile sadly, “He doesn’t deserve that title.”

      She shakes her head, “He’s so nice and friendly though.” She finally lifts her gaze to meet mine, “Lydia… I… ah… thank you. I know this may sounds selfish and… everything, but you saved him.”

      I don’t have to follow her gaze to know she means Krem. 

      “We’re… close. And if he were to… were to die,” her voice cracks.

      I pull her into a hug, “Hey Lace. It’s fine, I’m glad to help.”

      Her small arms squeeze me.

      “And I’m glad you’ve finally found someone,” I say.

      She smiles, “I’m glad you found someone too, Lydia. You deserve a bit of time with him.”

      I blink, pulling away from the hug, “Who?”

      She blushes, “Oh. Well, I heard about you and Cullen. Well done.”

      “‘Heard’ as in ‘heard’ what exactly?”

      Now it’s her turn to blink. She out a small nervous laugh, “You and _him_ … doing _things_. Last night…”

      My eyes grow wide, “Who told you?”

      She steps away, “No one…”

      “Harding?”

      “No… no one whatsoever.”

      “It was Dorian, wasn’t it?”

      “Yep.”

      I run.

      Harding is laughing behind me as she tries to keep up and I run into Iron Bull and Krem as they head for the tavern. Not the person I wanted to see, but he’ll do. Harding comes to a stop beside me. 

      Her own eyes grow wide when she sees Krem.

      “Iron Bull,” I grow. “Where’s Dorian?”

      The Qunari cocks his head, “Why?”

      “There’s something I need to ask him.”

      Harding lets out a snort then covers her laugh in surprise, “I’m sorry. It’s not funny.”

      Iron Bull laughs, “Oh but it is. Congratulations, boss. About time.”

      I groan, “You know too? Even when we were…”

      “Out on my mission this morning? Yes.”

      The doors to the reach are kicked open, closed because of the cold winds coming off the mountains. Cassandra stomps from the reach and stops on the top landing. Her eyes search across the courtyard and lock with mine.

      She looks furious.

      “Oh shit, what have you done now?” asks Bull, backing away from me. Krem scoops a giggling Harding into his arms and carries her away from the charging Cassandra.

      I’m rooted to the spot as Cassandra stalks towards me, Varric and Dorian in tow.

      She raises her arm. She’s about to strike me.

      But then her strong arms wrap around me and we both fall to our knees. And I’m in slight shock.

      She hugs me in a vice-like grip. She finally lets out a small laugh, “Why am I the last one to get told?”

      I’m stiff in her arms, “What—”

      “You never told me you had bedded the Commander.”

      Another groan escapes my throat, “You know too?”

      “How was he?”

      “Cassandra!” I shriek. Then lean closer to her, “He was great.”

      She pulls me back at arms-length, “I’m truly happy for you, Lydia.”

      I can feel the heat on my cheeks, “Well… thank you.”

      Dorian waltzes over and I glare at him, “How did you know? You didn’t walk in on us, did you?”

      “I could hear you,” he says with a grin.

      “We weren’t…. loud,” I argue.

      He shrugs, “No. I simply overheard some of the soldiers talking about how you never reappeared from his office. My mind came to the conclusion that you were… occupied.”

      I cough, “Maker.”

      “Yes, I’m sure that’s what you screamed last night.”

      Cassandra turns her head, a snort escaping her throat.

      I stare at Dorian, mouth opening and closing, but turn to Cassandra, “You can’t talk, I’m sure that’s what you yell too.”

      Her eyes flick to mine, angry.

      I swallow.

      But we both burst out into laughter. She grips my hand and pulls me to my feet.

 

+++

 

Finally, our Wicked Grace night has arrived. I haven’t seen Cullen since our night together two days ago. We’ve both been busy with meetings, closing Rifts and all those Inquisition responsibilities.

      As Cassandra and I walk together she sighs, “It’s Sera’s turn to pick what we do.”

      I flick my eyes to her, “And whatever she says, we must obey. Those were the rules, remember.”

      She just rolls her eyes, “Still, whatever she picks will be bad.”

      “Most likely, yes.”

      We enter the tavern and see the others already seated. Varric waves us over and we move towards the table. The tavern is empty tonight, all other patrons seeking a drink elsewhere. But the fireplace feels the tavern with warmth and the drinks are free.

      “There you two are, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up,” says Varric as he passes us both a drink.

      “We would never ditch you,” I say.

      “Good. It’s going to be one hell of a night tonight.”

      Josephine, Cullen, Sera, Harding, Krem, Bull, Dorian, Blackwall, Varric, Cassandra and I are all present and I even see Leliana come to sit next to Josie, though I know she won’t partake in the game.

      Cullen smiles at me, a small blush coming to his cheeks.

      “So are we playing cards or what?” asks Bull.

      Sera grins, “Wicked Grace, but naked.”

      “No,” says Cassandra.

      I sigh, “We aren’t going to get naked…”

      But Sera’s laughing stops me and she grins, “How about Wicked Grace: Strip.”

      “Ugh,” groans Cassandra.

      Bull laughs, “Well, we’d better get started.”

      I look at Cassandra, “But I’m… bad at this game.”

      “Well, I’m sure Cullen won’t be complaining,” says Dorian as he shuffles the cards and deals them out.

      Cullen, who’s taking a sip of his drink, chokes on the liquid, “Maker. I… I…”

      I cough, “Shut up Dorian.”

      And so we begin, cards dealt.  

      We’re all tense, that much I can see from everyone’s expressions.

      I begin conversation with them, just to ease the tension and soon we’re all speaking, relaxed and care free. Even if the Seeker is sitting a little closer to me for comfort. I know she’s not the best at this game and I also know she isn’t all that charmed by the idea of stripping down in front of everyone.

      I squeeze her hand for comfort and she gives me a tight-lipped smile.

      “I’ll bet my… scarf! Do you think that’s too daring?” asks Josephine. But her smiles drops, “Maybe I’ll make it my necklace… no!” Her smile returns, “Boldness! Scarf it is!”

      “Watch out Josie,” says Leliana. “I don’t want you losing too much.” There’s a teasing tone in her voice.

      I stay safe and bet my own scarf. Josephine gives me a wink.

      My five cards seem pretty good as I take them in. I might actually be able to win this round. We go around the circle playing our hands. I can feel Cassandra stiffen next to me and my eyes travel over to her hand. She’s not very good at hiding her cards. But she has a bad hand, that much I can see. I nudge her, placing a card on the table. One that will enhance her deck, yet still not hinder mine. Because I’m nice like that. She picks it up and discards another card and I can see her visibly relax—certainly a bad poker face.

      After a few minutes, the Angel of Death appears and we all groan.

      Placing our cards on the table, we look at everyone’s hands. Our eyes all flick to Josephine’s. Four Knights. A winning hand, like always. And it’s Dorian who loses.

      He shrugs and pulls his jacket off, revealing a tunic on underneath. He grins at me, moustache twitching.

      And so we play on…

 

+++

 

Cullen laughs, “The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers. And this… profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty Templars all turned to stare at once.”

      Our games has been going for at least 20 minutes now and we all seem to be actually enjoying it.

      Cullen’s eyes flick to me and he smiles, “Then a slow applause began. And spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation.”

      Josephine, who’s lost none of her clothing, giggles, “What did he do?”

      “Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armour.”

      Cassandra smiles, “He did not!”

      She’s loosened up now, though she has lost a few articles of clothing. Her usual armour is on the ground beside her and she wears just her normal tunic and pants. Quite scandalous for the Seeker, considering she’s in her armour for most of the day.

      Sera, on the other hand is sitting in her under clothes, which brings back memories of Wintersend. But she doesn’t seem to care.

      Krem sits next to Harding, only his binder and pants left. Harding has been blushing ever since Krem took his shirt off, her eyes drifting to his toned stomach, even more so than Varric’s. Harding on the other hand has lost her shoes and gloves, but nothing scandalous.

      “That’s how you know it’s true. I could never put that in a book, too unlikely,” says Varric. The dwarf, much to Cassandra’s disgust has lost his shirt. Though I know Cass is enjoying the view, she just doesn’t admit it.

      And me? My scarf and cloak have disappeared.

      I shift in my seat, “I’ve got one for you. Firstly, my Aunt is known across the Free Marches for her love of Antivan opera. So of course when a performance of ‘The Murder of Queen Madrigal’ opened, she made us all attend…”

      “Oh I love that play,” says Josephine.

      And so we continue to play as I tell the story.

      .

      .

      .

“My Aunt refused to speak to me for three months,” I conclude.

      Varric laughs, “Not bad. You don’t mind if I steal that one, do you, Stumbles?” He takes a sip of his beer.

      Dorian chuckles, “Beautiful story.”

      “I know,” I grin.

      Blackwall tilts his head, “You should tell stories more often.”

      Cassandra lets out a laugh, “You were a troublesome child.”

      Cole had appeared halfway through my story when I started talking about the rabbits. He sits close to me, yet doesn’t partake in the game. He nods, “I like the part about the rabbits.”

      I smile at him, “So did I, Cole.”

      “Yeah kid,” agrees Varric. “That was the best part.”

      Josephine coughs, “That was scandalous. It would ruin the Inquisition if anyone found out.” She pauses, “Tell it again!”

      “I think it’s our professional storyteller’s turn to tell one,” I say with a grin. “After all, what have you got to lose?”

      “My underpants,” mumbles Varric.

      Maker, I hope he doesn’t—if he loses once more, he’ll be completely naked. Not that Cassandra would mind— her eyes haven’t been able to stay away from his chest all night.

      But Varric just chuckles, “Fine... fine. I’m sure I can manage a story. Did I ever tell you about the time we broke into Chateau Haine? It started, as most capers do, with a trap…”

      .

      .

      .

Varric stands from his chair, his underpants the only thing protecting my eyes from his nakedness. I can feel Cassandra gripping my arm, though her face is completely straight. She’s learned to control her poker face.

      Varric chuckles, “And then Hawke looks up and says, ‘looks like the Duke… has fallen from grace.’” He sits back down gracefully.

      Cullen laughs.

      “That’s how Duke Prosper died? You know, that’s almost perfect for him,” says Josephine, picking up a card from the deck.

      The Angel of Death.

      We groan and place our cards on the table.

      “And the dealer takes everything,” squeal Josephine. “I win again!”

      Cullen leans forward, “Deal again. I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

      Josephine leans towards Cullen, a smile on her face. She’s enjoying this more than she should, “Commander! Everyone knows a Lady has no tells.”

      “Then let’s see if your good fortune lasts one more hand. I bet every article of clothing.”

      “I want another chance to win my dignity back. Deal me in,” I say. “Perhaps we can team up Cullen.”

      “I’m sure you were teaming up the other night,” mutters Dorian.

      I look at him, “Same with you and Bull.”

      Dorian leans back in surprise, “Oh good one.”

      Josie just scoffs at the Commander and I, “Good luck you two.”

      .

      .

      .

Cullen takes a sip of his drink and keeps his eyes on the table.

      Varric is watching the Commander, his shoulders shaking from trying to hold in his laugh. Even if he is one article away from being like Cullen.

      “Don’t say a word, dwarf,” says Cullen. I can’t help but stare. He’s so handsome and I can see him better in this light.

      Josephine grins at him.

      Sera, who is under the table, drunk beyond measure, chuckles, “Ooh. Cully Wully’s got his thing out for Lydia…”

      Cullen blushes and takes another sig.

      Varric can’t help but laugh, “I tried to warn you, Curly.”

      “Never bet against an Antivan, Commander,” smiles Josephine.

      Cassandra nods, “I’m leaving. I don’t want to witness our Commander’s walk of shame back to the barracks.” She gives me a quick look.

      “Well I do,” says Dorian. “I want to see what my little Lydia has gotten herself.”

      I roll my eyes.

      Josephine and Blackwall stand, bidding us good night. Leliana, silent for most of the night, walks beside Josephine.

      “What about Varric’s walk of shame?” I ask.

      Cassandra shoots me a look and stands from her seat, “Good night.” She has been left relatively untouched after our game. Her tunic and pants are still safely on her body.

      Varric stands and gathers his clothes, yanking his tunic over his torso before walking with Cassandra out of the tavern. Dorian stands and gives me a wink, watching Cass and Varric leave together. He soon follows, exiting the tavern.

      I smile at Cullen and he blushes back. Turning from him, I see him bolt from tavern, his butt cheeks round and beautiful.

      I give a laugh as Bull wakes up and raises a hand in the air to the retreating Cullen. He looks at me, startled at the sight once Cullen has gone.

      “Night Bull,” I say. “Make sure you put Sera back in her room.”

      Sera starts from her position on the ground, “Whozat? Did I win?”

      Bull grumbles as he picks Sera up of the floor, lumbering towards her chambers to put her to bed. Sera waves at me from Bull’s arms and I give her a grin .

      Leaving the two, I walk back across the courtyard, I can’t help but smile.

      Tonight was successful. As it always is with Wicked Grace. My inner circle always seems to get closer after each game. And even Cassandra loosened up a little.

      Trudging to my quarters, I stop just outside my door. It’s slightly ajar.

      Hesitating, I look around, but there is no one in the hall. The door creaks slightly when it opens and I hurry up the stairs. I don’t have my daggers with me, but I can always suck them into a Rift. Whoever they are.

      I peek around the corner. Someone’s lit the fireplace and the papers on my desk are stacked in a neat pile. Which I never do. The doors to the balcony are open and I take a step further into the room.

      “Oh, thank the Maker, I didn’t think you were coming,” comes a voice from the dark balcony.

      All of the fear rushes from my body and I breathe a sigh of relief, “Cullen.” He steps back inside, the firelight spilling over his toned skin. Naked skin. My breath hitches in my throat, “Oh?”

      He scratches the back of his head, “I… thought while I’m undressed…”

      I close the distance between us in a single leap, my lips pressed against his.

      He wraps his arms around me, smiling, “I’m glad you didn’t bring Cassandra up here to read.”

      I laugh, “Oh don’t worry, she’s distracted by Varric’s chest hair at the moment.”

      He kisses me again, “And I’m sure I’ll have you distracted in no time.”

      “I don’t doubt that,” I grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stopped the smut short this time, yet don’t hesitate to request another scene with these two! I’ll give it my best shot, after all, practice makes perfect, right? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	48. Chapter 47

“You still haven’t told me about your night together,” says Cassandra, looking up from her book.

      I look at her, “What?”

      But she looks away, “You and Cullen… was he romantic?”

      Pressing my book to my chest, my thoughts wonder to that night… and last night, “Maker, he’s so romantic. And gentle… and thoughtful… and…” I cough. “Cass, I’m sure you don’t want me to tell you in detail.”

      She looks at me, “If that is what you wish.”

      Snorting, I playfully slap her arm, “We did nothing as scandalous as _Swords & Shields_.”

      “Oh?”

      Getting to my feet, I shrug, “Maybe later. We’ve got a meeting to go to.”

      She grunts, “You can go, I am not needed at the war table.” The Seeker stands and walks from the library.

      “Wait!” I yell, racing after her. “We have a whole flight of stairs to chat. I’ll tell you what happened…”

 

+++

 

“Oh?” the Seeker says, surprised. “Then what happened?”

      I pause, trying to remember what happened after he used his… oh Maker, I’m blushing just thinking about it. Yet, I wonder why Cassandra is asking me all these questions. Relationships have never once interested her—apart from the characters in _Swords & Shields_—she’s been too busy training, or fighting, or helping save the world.

      Cassandra, may have fantasies, what woman wouldn’t… yet as I tell her the events that transpired that night, her mind travels elsewhere. And it’s not hard to figure it out. She longs for a romantic relationship. Maker, it must be years since she’s had one. Varric’s kiss was the closest thing to a new relationship and that broke when he betrayed her.

      Maybe it could be mended. They are friendly enough with each other to start over. If Cassandra will give him a second chance. She just needs to break down those walls around her heart, those walls that have protected her for all these years. Even if I’ve managed to sneak through them.

      After all, I hear being the Seeker’s best friend is quite an achievement, she doesn’t give friendship away that easily—as I have seen.

      And perhaps she’ll be the one telling me all about her night.

      Continuing my recount, we walk side by side and I grab her arm as I stumble over my words. She just smiles and urges me to continue.

      “What are you two giggling about?” comes a voice.

      We turn to see Varric standing at the fire place, a grin plastered on his face. Speak of the dwarf.

      “Absolutely nothing,” I say.

      “Stumbles, you know that means you are talking about something?”

      “We were talking about how annoying you are,” I retort.

      “Oh, I’m hurt.”

      “Varric, please leave us alone, we’re talking of very important things,” says Cassandra.

      “Girl things,” I nod.

      Varric clears his throat, “Oh. I see.”

      “But don’t worry, Cassandra’s not on her cycle,” I grin.

      Cassandra turns to me, eyes wide and even Varric is taken aback for a few seconds. But he recovers, “That’s good to hear, Seeker. No cramps for you.”

      Cassandra’s cheeks are tinged red, “Yes…”

      Varric’s eyes stay on the Seeker’s face for a little longer, before turning back to me, “Don’t you have a meeting to go to?”

      “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

      “No, he understands that you’re late for your meeting,” snaps Cassandra.

      I cough, “Oh Maker! Bye Varric.” I sprint, leaving the two in my wake. What kind of leader am I if I’m always late to my meetings? Yet, hopefully I’m leaving Cassandra and Varric together and it may lead to some mending.

      My boot scrapes along the ground and my knee jerks. With my arms in the air, I trip and sprawl across the dining hall floor. Everyone turns to me and a hushed silence moves across the room. I hear Cassandra yell my name.

      She rushes over to me and helps me to my feet.

      “Do not run. How many times do I have to tell you that? You’ll break your neck.” Her voice is stern, yet she’s skimming my face for any injuries.

      “I’m fine Cass.”

      Varric places a hand on my shoulder, “Stumbles. I knew that name was brilliant.”

      “Shut it, Varric,” snaps Cassandra.

      He chuckles, “Have fun at your meeting.”

      And so we finally push the doors to the war room open, and make our way to the table. I’m cut Cassandra came with me, rather than staying with Varric.

      Cullen smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back.

      “Right,” says Josephine. “We were starting to think you’d never show up.”

      “Lydia tripped,” says Cassandra. “On her face in front of everyone in the dining hall.”

      Josephine chokes back a small giggle.

      I can tell that’s pay back for my comment on her cycle.

      But Cullen steps towards me, “Are you alright?”

      “I think my body’s used to falling, so yes. I feel fine, thanks for asking.” I still blush at his kindness.

      Leliana clears her throat, “Inquisitor. It’s good to see you’re alright.”

      “Thank you, Leliana. Now, we have important meetings to… ah… meet, let’s get started.”

      Josephine nods, scanning her board, “Ah yes. You are needed in Emprise Du Lion. Red Templars have been sighted near our camps.”

      “Harding has reported red Lyrium in the area, yet only a few Templars. It would be best to rid the area of the Templars,” says Leliana.

      Josephine nods again, “Agreed.”

      It’s only then that I notice a mark on her dark skin. Hidden by her hair at particular angles, yet I can spot it now.

      I squint at her, trying to see what it is behind her twirls of black hair.

      She still hasn’t noticed my stare and I straighten, clearing my throat, “Josie, what’s that on your neck?”

      Her hand flies to her neck, covering the exact spot, “Oh… oh my. I fell. But I’m fine.”

      Cassandra leans forward, “You fell on your neck?”

      “And bruised it on that exact spot?” I press. It’s a purple bruise, just above her collarbone. The rest of her skin seems to be fine.

      Cullen tries to examine the bruise, “We could give you some salve to heal it. I wouldn’t want you bumping it. The healers can have it gone in a few days.”

      “Oh no, I’m perfectly fine, Commander. But I thank you dearly for your concern,” says Josephine, blushing.

      Leliana hasn’t said anything to her friend.

      “So you fell…” I say.

      “Yes.”

      “On your neck. And didn’t break it?”

      Josephine blinks, “I may have had something to break my fall.”

      “Oh?”

      Leliana’s dark eyes turn to Josephine.

      But the Ambassador just squeaks, “I may have fallen onto… Leliana’s lips.”

      Cullen lets out a cough.

      Leliana goes stiff, her hood hiding her face. Yet, I’m too excited to even move and Cassandra snorts, but turns her head to hide her smile.

      Josephine claps a hand to her mouth, “I did not just say that.”

      “Oh but you did,” I say. The grin slowly spreads across my face. “You two… were… were…”

      Leliana doesn’t say anything, her hand covering her eyes.

      “I won Wicked Grace,” says Josephine like it explains everything.

      Cassandra just groans, “Not you two as well.” Her eyes flick to Cullen and I.

      I let out a nervous laugh, “Cullen lost Wicked Grace.” But looking back at Josephine and Leliana, I smile, “You two deserve each other. And I so knew something was going to happen. Sera owes me two gold coins.”

      “You betted for us to… for us to…” Josephine can’t finish her sentence, her eyes staring at the candle attached to her board, “Oh dear Maker.”                                          

      I look at Leliana, “Wow, if she’s blushing just talking about it, how was she last night? A nervous wreck?”

      “Like you, I suppose?” retorts Leliana and I can’t help but gasp in pride. She’s learning to joke with people.

      “A fast tongue,” I say. “That’s good, right Josephine?”

      Leliana ushers Cassandra and I to the door, “I think you two have heard enough for one day. I do believe you have books to read.”

      “Oh, are you sure you don’t want to burrow some? _Swords & Shields_ has a few scenes that might give you two some tips.”

      Josephine has gone completely red and Cullen is staring at the map, unsure if he should say something. Yet, I feel fine. I’m truly happy for the two. They’re the hardest working women in the Inquisition and deserve to have a break. To get away from their duties. And it’s fun to tease them—like a true friend would do.

      Leliana glares at me, but I continue, “I’m sure you’re the one on top, Leliana. The mysterious one always—”

      She shuts the doors with a resounding boom.

      Cassandra sends me a look, “Andraste preserve me.”

      “Why do you need preserving now, Cassandra?”

      She shoves me gently, “Sister Leliana will remember what you had said to her.”

      “What? I was helping.”

      She just sends me another look, “Come. We must pack for Emprise Du Lion. And read a few more chapters before we leave.”                                                                      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time, because I’ve got a pretty packed next chapter. I really wanted a Josie/ Leliana scene and I thought now would be a good a time as any. They truly are great together and I love them to bits (Sorry to all the Blackwall and Josie shippers!)


	49. Chapter 48

Scanning my surroundings, I take in the bleak landscape. Snow covers the ground and the mountains surrounding us. It’s cold and miserable. I just want to be back in Skyhold.

      The red Templar encampment is only small, a temporary set up with a ghost team protecting it. Tents are spread out around the clearing, along with tables covered in maps and letters. Red Lyrium barrels have been placed next to carriages, ready to be shipped out.

      Hiding behind a boulder, I nod at Cassandra to assess the situation. Harding had reported red Lyrium movements around the Inquisition camp, so that’s what we intend to stop.

      Cassandra peeks out from behind our cover, scans the area and bobs back down, “There are five Templars and it seems to be an envoy of red Lyrium. An archer, two warriors and a rogue, from what I can remember.”

      “They wish to move ship the Lyrium somewhere else, I’m assuming,” says Vivienne. “Typical.” She brushes a snow flake from my collar, “Careful of the snow, darling.”

      Dorian had to stay back for this trip so he could focus on Corypheus’ true name. Something we can use against the enemy. So Vivienne actually volunteered to come with us—for some fresh air. Though I know how much she hates the snow, always getting on her clothes and all. She brushes a snow flake from her own collar.

      I nod, “Varric, you take the archer out. He’s too dangerous. Vivienne, try to keep the others trapped while Cassandra and I take them down. They’ve got heavy armour, so it will take a while to bring them down.”

      “As you wish, my dear,” comes Vivienne’s response.

      We wait a few seconds before rushing out from behind our shelter. The cold wind cuts through my armour like daggers as I rush towards the Templars. The archer swings towards Cassandra and I, his arrow aimed at the Seeker. A bolt shoots through his left eye and the Templar jolts before dropping to the snowy ground.

      Chain lightning rips across the clearing, yet the heavily armoured Templars continue towards us. Cassandra and I work together, drawing the Templar’s attacks while Varric and Vivienne try to kill them from the outskirts.

      I thrust a blade at the Templar’s shield and Cassandra follows. I spin to get behind the Templar while he’s distracted with Cassandra’s attacks. Driving my swords through his armour, a scream rips from his throat and his falls, dead behind he hits the ground.

      Cassandra pulls me behind her as a sword cuts through the air. It slams against her shield, yet it holds fast. But the Templar roars and slams his sword into the shield again. And it splits the metal. Cassandra jerks back, releasing her grip on the broken shield, scrambling from the Templar’s next attack. I back up with her, slightly in shock. He must be enhanced with red Lyrium, his strength improved.

      A bolt of ice slices the Templar’s body like a knife in butter and we turn to see Vivienne smiling at us, “I’ve got your backs my darlings.”

      “Thanks you,” I say.

      “You are very welcome.”

      Cassandra gives a last glance at her shield and I pat her on the back, “Don’t worry Cass, I’ll get Harrit to make you a new one.”

      She smiles, “It better be pretty.” Without waiting for my answer, she rushes towards the nearest Templar. A bolt hits the Templar in the arm, giving Cassandra enough time to swing her sword into him. The Seeker and Varric are finally working to together, which I take as a good sign.

      And finally we take out the last Templar. He’s out numbered and scared shitless. It doesn’t take us long.

      The clearing is silent as we get our breaths back.

      “We’ll get the scouts to move this red Lyrium,” I say. “The camp is just up the hill.”

      “Good idea, Stumbles. I don’t want this just lying around,” says Varric. “Having it this close to the camp was a bad idea in the first place.”

      I grin, “I say we’ve done a good day’s work. Perhaps a drink at the tavern when we get back?”

      “Do you even need to ask?”

      A roar cuts off my answer and we all turn to see a red Lyrium behemoth thundering towards us. Its red Lyrium-armoured body glints in the sunlight and its left hand is too big for its body. A helmet has been molded onto its head, stuck from its transformation.

      “Ah shit, where did he come from?” breathes Varric as he readies Bianca.

      Cassandra and I take stance, while Vivienne twirls her staff, sending a ring of fire around the monster. It growls at us and swings its big arm, sending it into the snow.

      “Go for the neck,” I say.

      Varric fires bolt upon bolt towards the behemoth trying to lead its attention from Cassandra and I. We both dodge the monster’s large fist as it pounds it into the ground again. Spires of red Lyrium shoot from its fist, travelling along the ground. Sharp and deadly. They melt back into the ground when the behemoth lifts its fist.

      Cassandra hacks at its legs, trying to trip it, while I go for its back.

      How did we miss it? It decides to only just show up, even when every other Templar is dead. It must have been a last resort for the Templar’s defenses.

      But, we’ve defeated one before and we can do it again, easily.

      Maker, perhaps I spoke too soon.

      We struggle to keep it still so one of us can go for the neck. It’s aggressive, agile and keeping us away as it swings its fist. And Varric’s bolts just ping off its armour, much like Vivienne’s magic.

      I lock eyes with Cassandra. And a plan forms in my mind. I grin at her, the pieces fitting together. Why didn’t I think of this before?

      “Varric, eyes! Vivienne, legs,” I order.

      The two immediately change tactics. A bolt flies into the monster’s eyes while an icy storm freezes its legs. Now’s our chance. It’s blind and immobile.

      Rushing towards it, Cassandra and I bring our weapons up, but in a blind panic, the behemoth sweeps its hand. Cassandra tries to dodge the attack, but she’s hit. Flying through the air, she lands in the soft snow and rolls to a stop.

      I want to go help her, but she looks at me and shakes her head. Now is our chance to kill it. And so I turn back to the behemoth.

      Nimbly climbing up the jagged spikes on its back I reach its neck as it bends over in panic. The monster roars and the ice around its feet begins to crack. But it’s tilting, losing its balance. Quickly, I drive my blades into the monster’s neck and an inhuman scream echoes across the clearing. Its hand shoots out and spikes of red Lyrium shoot up from the ground in one last desperate attack.

      The behemoth falls to the ground, right on top of the red Lyrium it just summoned from the ground. It gives one last grunt before it goes limp, the red Lyrium melting back into the snow. I jump from its back and straighten, proud that I actually landed on my feet for once.

      I turn to Cassandra, “Easy.”

      But her face has gone pale, body rigid.

      Her hands clutch at the piece of red Lyrium stuck in her stomach.

      Fear tears at my own stomach and time seems to slow around me. Where is her shield? It was broken in the battle before… Maker… and her armour… it’s completely destroyed from the blow. Her ruby red blood drips between her fingers and to the snow below, sizzling from the warm liquid.

      My legs move on their own accord and I stumble towards her. Her eyes meet mine, and her knees wobble.

      “Cass…” it’s a whisper. And it’s the only thing I can say.

      My arms wrap around her just as her legs give out. And a small whimper escapes her throat. Time speeds up again and my hand clamps around her wound as I lay her in my lap.

      This can’t be happening. No, I must be dreaming. I’ll wake up in Cullen’s arms soon.

      Varric rushes towards us, “Shit! Shit, Lydia, give me your scarf.” Cassandra is in my lap and her warm blood covering my hands tells me this isn’t a dream. This is reality—a nightmare.

      I unwrap my scarf and hand it to him, fingers shaking. He begins unbuckling Cassandra’s armour, with some help from Vivienne.

      My hands tremble as I hold Cassandra’s head and Vivienne squeezes my hand before ripping the buckles apart. Varric presses the scarf to Cassandra’s now red stained side and I feel the Seeker stiffen under his pressure. There’s blood everywhere.

      Her eyes travel to the wound, but I quickly tug her face back to me, “You’re going to be alright, I promise.”

      Mother said to never make promises I couldn’t keep.

      She nods, eyes wide, “I… I…”

      “Shh,” I say, though the lump in my throat makes it hard to breath.

      Varric tries to keep his face from falling, “We need to get her back to the camp. Our horses are there.”

      “Vivienne,” I plead. “Please, you’re a mage… you have to heal her. Please…”

      “My dear, I’m not a healer. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I focused on ice and fire, more than healing.” She touches my arm, tears in her eyes.

      Why didn’t I bring Dorian? I should always have a healer with me. Even Solas would know the art. This is all my fault, if I hadn’t made Cassandra charge with me… she was defenseless, yet I made her attack with me. If I had gone to help her up instead of killing the behemoth on my own, she would have been free from the monster’s last attack. If I left her at Skyhold, this wouldn’t have happened.

      I notice I’m crying, tears falling down my cheeks. I don’t know what to do. Maker, please help me.

      I cradle Cassandra and she grips my tunic. Her smile is weak, yet her eyes burn in determination. This should never have happened. To her of all people.

      “Cassandra… we need to move you,” I say through sobs.

      Varric’s hand squeezes my arm and with gently movements, he takes Cassandra from my arms. I’m surprised by his strength, yet Cassandra’s head lolls into his chest, eyes struggling to stay open. Her feet drag along the ground as he walks.

      We move back along the path, the wind beginning to pick up. Snow whips into our faces, yet we don’t stop. No, this is a matter of life and death. We can’t stop.

      Varric pulls a cloak over Cassandra’s body to keep her warm, “It’s going to be fine Seeker.”

      I can see the camp on top of the hill, the Inquisition banners flapping in the wind. Vivienne and I race towards it. And thank the Maker for Scout Harding.

      “Harding!” I yell. Vivienne and I enter the camp and everyone seems to turn to our yelling.

      Harding looks up from her work with a smile, but it evaporates when she sees my haunted face. She stands from her desk and rushes towards us, but stops dead in her tracks when she sees Cassandra in Varric’s arms. Blood dribbles from the scarf and onto Varric’s armour.

      “She’s hurt,” comes the Scout’s remark. “Get her onto a horse now. We don’t have healers here… but Dorian… it will take us an hour to get back to Skyhold, if we hurry. And I know a short cut.”

      I’ve never seen Lace Harding so in control before. She’s amazing. The dwarf yells orders and a raven flies towards Skyhold, an urgent message tied to its foot.

      Myself on the other hand? I’m trying not to lose it. Cassandra is never one to get hurt… to get badly injured. It’s always me she has to look after, but now the tables are turned and I don’t know if I can deal with this. The Seeker’s dealt with too much shit to now have this happen to her.

      Oh Maker, why did this have to happen? It’s my fault… my fault.

      Our movements seem to blur into one and soon we’re on horseback. Varric rides beside me, Cassandra held tightly against his chest. The Seeker has fallen unconscious, yet every now and then I can hear her let out a small groan.

      I try to keep it together, but my tears continue to fall all the way to Skyhold.

 

+++

 

 

As we gallop into Skyhold’s courtyard it seems as though everyone has come to see the wounded Seeker, but thank the Maker Leliana had received the raven. Harding screams at everyone to move out of the way and they do.

      Cullen helps Harding from her horse and together they clear a path. Dorian and Bull rush towards us and I dismount, nearly falling from my horse from the shaking fear that grips my body.

      Vivienne nods at Dorian, “You’re a healing adept. My spells aren’t strong enough to even relieve the pain.”

      Dorian doesn’t say a word as he looks at Cassandra. Bull takes Cassandra from Varric’s arms, yet the dwarf doesn’t seem to want to let her go.

      Everything’s going so fast, I can hardly keep up.

      But we’re in the infirmary and Cassandra is placed on a bed. Dorian pulls his sleeves up and gives me a quick look.

      He gently lifts back Cassandra’s tunic to see the wound. And it’s bad. Blood continues to drip from the wound, even though we tried to stop it. And a piece of the red Lyrium is still in her stomach. The entire left side of her stomach is slick with blood and the wound is at least the length of my hand.

      I look up to see my inner circle standing at the entrance, watching. Sera clutches Harding’s hand, while Solas has his head bowed. Blackwall ushers everyone into the hallway and I give him a small nod in thanks.

      It’s just Varric, Dorian, Josie, Cullen, Leliana and I.

      “Lydia, I need you to help me. We need to get that piece out before it infects her even more,” says Dorian. “We need to get it out now.”

      I nod, biting my lip to stop my sob.

      Dorian looks at me and clasps my arms, “It’s going to be fine, just do as I say.”

      I nod again.

      He presses some salve to wound and Cassandra groans. She’s now conscious. Dorian hesitates but then green light pools in the palm of his hand.

      “On my count, pull the piece from her stomach.”

      I look at him, “What? But she’ll…”

      “Lydia it’s the only way.”

      He guides my hand to the red Lyrium sticking out from the Seeker’s skin. He wraps a cloth around the piece and I gently take hold of it.

      Cassandra tries to sit up, back Varric holds her down, “Stop moving Seeker, you’ll only make it worse.” He has tears in his eyes, but he’ll never admit that to anyone. He holds her arms, while Josephine strokes her head with a damp cloth.

      Dorian looks at me and nods.

      I pull the piece from her stomach and a scream fills the room. I blink back more tears as Dorian moves in to heal her. I know his powers won’t be able to heal her fully.

      He has to be rough, it’s the only way to stop the bleeding.

      “Stop… please…” groans Cassandra, her body writhing in pain. The green light wraps around her stomach and Dorian continues to press his hand against her wound, while rubbing some sort of salve into it. I throw the piece of red Lyrium onto a plate and it’s only then I can see how big it actually is. Almost as big as a fork. That was in her body. In her stomach, infecting her.

      I choke back a sob.

      The blood… there’s too much blood. It’s over my hands, over Dorian’s, covering Cassandra’s tunic and Varric’s. And the screams tearing from her mouth…

      I can’t take it anymore.

      My best friend is going to die… all because of my stupid plan. A sob escapes my throat and I choke on the guilt.  

      Bolting from the room, tears streaming down my face, I have to get away from it. I don’t know where I’m going, but I just keep running.

      It’s only when I reach the gardens, hidden deep within the bushes that I crumple to my knees. I dry heave, body shuddering as I try to keep my emotions in check.

      But I can’t. Why must the one most devoted to her faith be punished? Why does the Maker punish Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand to the Most Holy, a faithful servant of Andraste? If the Maker truly is with us, why must He make her suffer? Let it be me, she doesn’t deserve this fate.

      I scream in frustration… in anger… in utter heart break.

      I am a mistake. I shouldn’t be leading the Inquisition. I only get people killed. Like when I accidently blew up the Conclave. Or I caused a dark future where I saw the whole world die. Or Haven, when I should have known an attack was eminent. I am a mistake. I shouldn’t be leading the Inquisition.

      But I feel a light hand on my shoulder and I turn to see Cole, his face hidden behind the brim of his hat.

      “Cole…” I sob. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

      “Her life bleeds from her stomach. Her own Breach. Lyrium pulses through her veins, yet I can help,” he says. “Flush the poison from her system.”

      “Please Cole, you must help her. I… I don’t know what to do.”

      “She is kind. She cares for people. I help the kind. Please, Lydia. Do not be sad,” he holds out his hand and I look at it.

      But I take it and pull the boy into a hug. I cry into his shoulder and his hands rest gently on my back.

      “Heart full of hurt. It’s my fault, she says. I did this. A mistake, a failure. Maker all around. He is not as bad as you think. And nor are you.”

      I pull away and he places a hand to my cheek, awkwardly wiping the tears from my skin.

      “Thank you Cole.”

      “There is no need for thanking.”

 

+++

 

The infirmary is silent as I walk in. Dorian has blood covering most of his skin, his hair is a mess and his blood shot eyes search mine. Yet it’s the haunted look on his face that makes my heart almost tear itself from my rib cage.

      No… please. Not her.

      Varric doesn’t lift his head and his eyes are dark.

      “I’ve done all I can, Lydia. If she can make it through the night, then she will survive. But… it’s going to be a long night. Cole helped to suck the Lyrium from her veins, but I don’t think we got it all.”

      I nod, clamping my jaw shut to try and hold in my tears. Dorian wraps me in a hug and I lean into his shoulder, “Get some rest Dorian.” He’s been working for well over three hours now and it’s nightfall. I haven’t been back since we brought her into the infirmary. I haven’t wanted to go back. I stayed in the gardens long after Cole comforted me.

      “I will be in my quarters if anything happens.”

      He eventually leaves after making sure his potions and salves are in order—in case the unthinkable happens. Leliana and Josephine leave close behind the mage, each giving me a small smile and a nod.

      Cullen wraps me into his strong arms and cradles me, “She’ll be fine Lydia. She’s got you by her side.” He gives me a strong smile and kisses my forehead. Then he leaves the room and I’m left alone with Cassandra.

      I slowly turn to the wounded warrior. He face is serene, yet I don’t know if she’s sleeping or unconscious from her blood loss. Her black hair is wet against her forehead, her braid has still managed to stay in after everything that happened.

       I come to sit in a chair next to her bed and fold up a cloth, dipping it in some warm water. Luckily Josephine replaced the bloody clothes with new ones.

      “I’ve never seen her so peaceful before,” comes a voice.

      I turn to see Varric standing to the side, his hair a mess, hands bloody. The bags under his eyes are dark. I’ve never seen him so tired before.

      “Varric,” I breathe. I hadn’t even noticed him. “What are you doing here?”

      “Making sure the Seeker doesn’t hurt herself,” his smile is forced. He comes to stand by me and sighs, “She’s a tough woman. I’m… I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

      I place the damp cloth on her forehead and wipe away the sheet of sweat from her skin. Her skin is feverish and warm and I take hold of her limp hand, “How bad was it?”

      Varric doesn’t speak for a moment, “The wound is deep. And big. And the red Lyrium?” His voice cracks, “It’s spread through her body—like the dark future you were sucked into…”

      I look at the dwarf and see that he’s fighting his inner demons.

      “She’s infected with it. Cole, he’s such a good kid, he did everything he could… but I don’t know if it’s enough.” He looks at me, eyes shining with tears, “We both know what red Lyrium can do.”

      “Hey,” I coo. “Varric, she’s got most of it out of her system. She’s just got to survive the night. That’s all. Easy.” I pull him into a hug.

      “I never got to say sorry…” he mumbles. “About Hawke.”

      I close my eyes, “Tell her when she wakes up.”

      “But…”

      “She _will_ wake up.”

      Yet, even as I try to comfort Varric, my words seem hollow. I don’t know myself if she’s going to wake up or not.

      “Varric,” I say. “Go get some rest. You need it.”

      He shakes his head, “I need to stay—”

      “I will haul your ass from your bed myself if something happens. Go get some sleep,” my voice is firm.

      Varric hesitates for a second before nodding, “Fine. But please…”

      “You’ll be the first to know what’s happening.”

      He nods again and looks at Cassandra. He gently brushes a strand of hair from her face and turns, walking slowly from the room.

       I turn back to Cassandra. Her body is still warm and when I lift her tunic, I see that her bandages around her side are clean for now, which is a good sign. Yet her skin is hot and her veins pulse with red Lyrium.

      A sigh escapes my lips and I wrap my fingers around her limp hand.

      “Please Cassandra, don’t leave me now. You can’t. Not at a time like this. Not when Varric still has feelings for you, not when the Inquisition is finally gaining an upper hand in this battle… and not when I need a friend like you.” I know she can’t hear me.

      And I know it’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOHHHH my god!! I am so sorry my children!! But it had to be done. I feel so evil!! Poor Cass, everything happens to her. As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!! :)


	50. Chapter 49

Walking down the hallway, I move towards the infirmary. It’s my turn to watch over her, like the past two nights. And tonight, I’ll stay awake again, to make sure nothing goes wrong. To make sure she doesn’t leave me.

      Dorian may have said if she survived the first night, she’ll live, yet she still hasn’t woken from her coma. Anything could go wrong during the third night. Maker, it’s been days since the accident and still, she hasn’t woken. 

      People have come and gone for the last three days, Dorian trying some new healing spells, but she still hasn’t woken up yet. Gifts have piled onto the table beside her bed, from flowers, to books, to a new shield from Harrit.

      I stop just outside the door when I hear someone talking.

      “Seeker, you can’t leave me,” it’s Varric. “Maker’s tits, you had to pick the worst time to get injured. Stumbles needs you.” He laughs sadly, “I need you. As weird as that may sound. I’ll admit it, life isn’t really worth living if I don’t have you to annoy. I mean, who else am I going to tease? Vivienne would stab me and well, Stumbles is pretty good at comebacks. You on the other hand… plus, the Knight-Captain still needs to find her lover.”

      I peek around the door and he gently strokes her cheek, “Come on Cassandra.”

      He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, so I enter the room. He looks up at me, “Still no change.”

      Nodding, I grasp his shoulder, “She’s just sleeping. Maker knows she’s never gets enough of it.”

      He laughs, “She’s always up before dawn.” He scratches the back of his head and sighs, “I… I guess I’ll leave her with you.”

      I smile, “Remember, I’ll call you if anything happens.”

      He nods, “She’s in capable hands.” And without another word, he leaves the room. I smile at the kind words he had told Cassandra, though she wouldn’t have heard.

      I’m back at the chair, trying to get comfortable.

      I pull the furs up to her shoulders and check her bandages. The same routine every night.

      The others had tried to help me with the watch, but I couldn’t leave her. Not like I did when I hid in the gardens like a scared little girl.

      Skyhold has been quiet. Bull hasn’t had the heart to drink, we had to skip our Wicked Grace night and even Sera’s been awfully quiet. And it’s terrible. The whole castle seems to be mourning Cassandra already. Yet I’m not giving up, I can’t give up.

      The hours drag on and she hasn’t stirred, hasn’t moved a little since I pulled that piece from her stomach. What was the last thing I said to her? Was it something memorable, something nice? Maker, I hope so.

      My hand is wrapped in hers and I squeeze it, but the silence is pressing against me. The candles burn low, wax dripping from the plates. And my eyes begin to droop.

      I straighten, no. I need to be here for Cassandra.

      Another hour drags on in silence and my head is heavy, eye lids struggling to stay open. I pinch myself to stay awake and take a sip from the brandy I found in the kitchens.

      My mind wonders to Cullen, to his touch. How much I long for it now. Then it wonders to when I woke up just after the Conclave exploded. How far we’ve come… how far I’ve come. Cassandra hated me at first, Cullen thought I was a prisoner and Varric didn’t know what to think of me. I never thought Cullen and I could be in a relationship, what with everything going on.

      And Cassandra, I thought she would have hated me for eternity. But she’s my best friend. Who cares about the age difference, we’re still close. And it’s the same with the others. Without the Inquisition, I wouldn’t have met any of my friends. I’d be stuck at home, talking to suitors with my mother’s need to have me married always weighing down on me.

      We’ve grown as the Inquisition. And maybe into something more. We’re a family. And family always look after each other…

      A mistake.

      I shut out the voice in my head, gripping Cassandra’s hand tighter.

      I don’t want to be a mistake anymore.

 

+++

 

“Lydia…” someone’s speaking. It’s nice here. I don’t have to worry about the responsibilities. I’m sitting by a fire. Brandon, my little brother, plays with his wooden knight, while Cullen gently massages my shoulders, easing the tension from my muscles.

      Varric writes in the corner of the room and we’re all quiet, the only sound is the fire cracking in the hearth.

      The door is pushed open and we look up to see Cassandra in the doorway. Yet, there’s blood dripping from her hair, from her finger tips, along her armour. Her eyes are glowing red and she takes another step forward.

      “Lydia?” she asks, voice weak. But then she begins to transform. Red Lyrium grows from her skin, through her hair. She’s too big for the doorway and it cracks as she grows bigger… taller. And she becomes a behemoth. Ugly, ferocious… a monster. Red Lyrium juts from her back and she’s growls at us.

      Varric looks up from his work, “Seeker?” But he just continues writing.

      Brandon steps towards the monster—to Cassandra—and places a hand on its arm. He turns back to face me as the behemoth lifts its fist above my baby brother.

      “Lydia?” he says, just as the fist bears down on him.

      I jerk awake, a small shriek escaping my throat.

      I look around to see my inner circle standing in front of me. They’re slightly surprised, but Josephine has tears in her eyes, and she’s smiling. Dorian winks at me.

      Cullen’s furry cloak falls from my shoulders and crumples to the ground.

      Yet someone is still holding my hand.  

      I look at my hand and at the one gripping mine. I follow the blood stained fingers to their arm, to their shoulder… up to their face…

      Cassandra’s hazel eyes watch me.

      “Cassandra…” I breathe. And I break into tears, wrapping my arms around her gently. I cry in the crook of her shoulder, “Don’t ever do that again.” I’m a sobbing mess, complete with messy hair and a hungry stomach.

      I feel Cassandra laugh softly, then wince at the pain, “I’ll… try not to allow myself to get caught up in the red Lyrium next time.”

      I let out a laugh, “Good.” Looking at my inner circle, they all smile at me. I turn back to Cassandra. Her hair is messed and her skin is quite pale. “How long… how long have you been awake?”

      “Ten minutes at most,” she says. Her voice is hoarse, yet those hazel eyes smile at me. “I woke up to your head on my stomach.”

      My eyes grow wide, “Maker, I’m so sorry.”

      She waves a hand softly through the air, “You didn’t hurt me, it is fine.” Her smile is soft, “I hear you looked after me every night.”

      “And Varric kept watch in the day,” I add with a grin.

      She gives me a look, “I have heard that too.”

      Josephine straightens, “Come now, we all have duties to attend to. We can all spend some time with Cassandra after.” She winks at me, “I will send you some breakfast, Inquisitor.”

      “Oh, thank you.”

      The ambassador ushers everyone out of the room to give us some privacy.

      Dorian turns to me, “Give Cassandra some bread. She hasn’t eaten in three days. Only small pieces.” He turns in a flourish and leaves the room.

      I turn back to Cassandra and she holds out her hand. I take it gently.

      “Cassandra,” I begin. “I’m so sorry.”

      She looks at me, “You were not the one to injure me.”

      I shake my head, “But I was the one to make you charge without a shield. I should have helped you when you got hit… I should have stayed with you… I should have—”

      “Lydia,” says Cassandra. “It was not your fault. Do not blame yourself.”

      “But…”

      Fingers curl around my chin and she tugs gently so I meet her eyes, “Perhaps the Maker had planned this.”

      I look away, “Why would the Maker punish His most faithful?”

      “I do not know, it is the Maker’s way,” her voice is soft.

      I scoff.

      “You do not believe in the Maker’s actions?”

      “I almost lost my best friend. It may seem selfish, but I didn’t want you to go to the Maker’s side. Not yet, anyway. I wanted you to live a little longer before then.”

      She smiles, “And here I am.”

      “Here you are,” I repeat.

      “You are not a mistake, Lydia.”

      My eyes flick up to meet hers.

      She just tilts her head, “I read your tombstone in the Fade. And I know how much it affected you… and Cole had told me your thoughts. Listen to me, you are not a mistake. You never were. Never will be.”

      I let out a shuddering sigh, averting my gaze, “Thank you Cass. I… I...”

      She just squeezes my hand and it’s the only comfort I need. To know she will be there for me now, to know that I’ll be there for her too.

      But then I smile, “Varric was worried for you.”

      She blinks.

      I continue, “You get a second chance to kiss him.”

      She groans, “I wake up from a life threatening wound and this is what I get.”

      “Well, you also got a new shield.”

      She laughs, “Is it pretty?”

      “Of course. I painted flowers and kittens on it.”

      She glances at the shield, yet only finds a kite-shaped piece of metal, forged with extra steel to hold against an attack.

      Molded onto the front of the shield is the eye of the Seekers, yet I added a little something to the bottom of the shield. A smiling face is painted red on the metal. And just for effect, my initials next to the little drawing.

      She glares at me, “Who’s that meant to be?”

      “You.”

      “Beautiful, I must say.”

      “Varric would think so.”

 

+++

 

Throughout the day, my friends have come and gone, all wishing Cassandra a healthy recovery. A bunch of flowers sit on Cassandra’s wooden bedside table and even her sword stays close to her.

      Much to the Seeker’s embarrassment, everyone in Skyhold seems to be talking about her. Whispers spread fast around the castle and even Dagna has come to give her wishes. I haven’t seen Varric for a while though. Perhaps he’s waiting for the excitement to die down… he’s waiting for the right time to talk to her.

      Cassandra keeps a hand on mine for most of the day. It’s nice to be there for her, to be the one she wants closest—even if it should be Varric.

      “Lydia?”

      I open my eyes, “Yes?”

      “You’re asleep.”

      “I was resting my eyes.”

      “Get some sleep, Lydia.”

      “I was sleeping.”

      “I thought you were resting your eyes,” comes her smug reply.

      I smile, “Well. Same thing, really.”

      “Go. To your own bed. How long has it been since you’ve slept properly?” she asks.

      I smile nervously, “Well…”

      She just sighs, “I’m fine now, Lydia. Please, I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing then sitting here with me.”

      I scoff, “Like what?”

      She just smiles at me.

      I blink, “Oh. Oh? Do you mean… ah…”

      “Cullen is waiting for you,” she says. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

      I laugh, “After everyone _you’ve_ been through, you deserve it.”

      “I do not think that well happen,” she says.

      “Oh, but I do.” I turn my head and cough, “ _Varric_.” I cough again to cover up my comment, trying not to grin.

      “Just go,” she groans. “Enjoy your night.”

      “You too, Cassandra. Don’t strain yourself too much.” I stand from my chair, “With Varric.”

      “Ugh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the ol’ disgusted noise. Beautiful. But yes, sorry for all the angst and sad stuff, but I had a thought of what would happen if someone in Lydia’s inner circle had been wounded quite bad. Of course, the rational thing was to injure Cassandra so I could write plenty of Cass/ Varric scenes. Plenty more to come, I promise.


	51. Chapter 50

Dorian and I stand at Cassandra’s bed. It’s the next day and Cassandra’s got some colour back into her face and her hair is neatly brushed—braid wrapped around her head and all.

      The mage looks at me then back to Cassandra, “It’s the only way.”

      “What exactly does _it_ mean?” she asks.

      “Well, flushing the remaining red Lyrium still in your system, involves certain… ah, actions.”

      “Like what?” she growls.

      Dorian chokes back a small chuckle, “Induced vomiting is the easiest way to remove it from your body.”

      Cassandra looks helpless, “There isn’t any other way?”

      “Unfortunately, no. I can give you a potion to begin the process…” he lets out a laugh. “And then you’ll just have to do the rest.”

      “Ugh, Maker preserve me.” She glares at Dorian, “Fine. I will do it.”

      Dorian nods, “I will prepare the potion right away. It should be delightful,” he gives me a grin. And his eyes flick to Varric, who’s entering the infirmary with Bull. “But Lydia, I need you to change her bandages.” He gives me a wink before sauntering off to the potions table with Bull. Varric busies himself with changing the beds around us.

      The infirmary is quite busy today, with healers running around, still trying to heal the wounded from Adamant.

      I look at Cassandra, “You heard the man.”

      She groans and tries to push herself up. Pain ripples across her face and I clutch her arm, “Cass… let me help you.”

      “No,” she says. “I’m fine.” She tries to pull from my grip, but I hold tight.

      “Cassandra Pentaghast. Stop being stubborn.”

      She sends me a look, but her face softens, “Fine.”

      I place a hand gently on her back and ease her up so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. The Seeker winces and mumbles a thank you. It’s cold today, so I wrap some furs around her legs to keep her warm.

       Cassandra gives me a small laugh, “I thought I was the one who looks after you.”

      “My, the tables have changed,” I grin. I gather up the salves and bandages needed and stand in front of her. “Right, tunic off.” I tug at the fabric on her shoulders and she instantly stiffens, her hands coming to her tunic.

      I stop and pull my hands from her, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

      She blinks, “No… no…” She swallows, “Can’t I just hold my tunic up? It’s… it’s too cold to take it off.”

      “I’ll give you some more furs to cover you. But I need to see what I’m doing, Cass,” I say.

      Her eyes stay on mine, “I don’t want everyone to see… what’s wrong with me.”

      “Wrong with you? Cassandra, there’s nothing wrong with you,” I say.

      She shakes her head, “This injury is life threatening, Lydia. I may never be able to pick up a sword again. My whole body aches, I’m so weak and all I want to do is sleep.”

      I swallow.

      “I will never be the same as I was before.” And she looks heart broken. Her eyes drift to the shield and sword at her bedside table. “Fighting is all I’ve known. I’ve got nothing else to fall back on.”

      I clench my hands, “Cassandra. I will nurse you back to health if it’s the last thing I do. You will fight with me. I need you on the battlefield. The Inquisition needs you. I promise you’ll be able to fight like you could before.”

      Her gaze turns back to me and she blinks back tears, nodding her head, “Thank you Lydia. Thank you.”

      I give her a soft hug, “I won’t ever give up on you. You’re going to fight Corypheus with me… and Varric.”

      She pulls away from my embrace, “Maker, must you involve him in every conversation we have?”

      “Why yes. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”

      She grunts something.

      “Now, can I clean your wound or not?”

      Her arms wrap around her torso subconsciously and her eyes drift to someone behind me. I can tell who it is.

      My fingers move to her wrists, “Cassandra, he’s not going to care. In fact, I’m sure he’d like what he sees. Scars are very attractive to men.”

      Her eyes snap back to me.

      “He…” Her eyes harden and flick back to me, “Never mind.”

      I’ve never seen Cassandra so flustered over revealing a scar before—or a part of her skin. From the many times we’ve shared tents, I’ve noticed lots of scars criss-crossing her back when she changes, so why must she be so nervous of this one?

      “Cass?”

      She looks at me, “What if he’s repulsed?”

      “I’m sure that won’t happen.”

      She shakes her head, “It’s ludicrous to think… why would he care? After I punched him…”

      “Wow, you getting stabbed as made you a different person. Where is Cassandra Pentaghast and what have you done with her?”

      She tilts her head, “I… I…”

      “You never talk about your feelings,” I smile. “But by all means, continue. It’s very cute.”

      She frowns, “No. You don’t deserve to hear.”

      I scoff playfully, “Not everything’s changed.”

      She rolls her eyes. 

      And I just grin at her. She’s finally admitted that perhaps there is something more she feels for Varric than just anger. I just hope Dorian and I can get them together.

      With a sigh, Cassandra lifts her arms slowly. I carefully peel the tunic from her torso and place it beside her. She shivers and I pull the furs around her hips and a shawl around her shoulders. Even with the fires in the braziers, it’s still cold in the infirmary.

      The bandages covering the lower half of her torso are loose and a patch of blood stains the white cloth. I begin unwrapping the bandages, slowly untwisting them from her body.

      Cassandra keeps her eyes on the ceiling, hands clenched into fists at her side.

      I laugh, “Relax, Cassandra. I’m not undressing you or anything.”

      She looks at me.

      Leaning closer, I smile, “You’re like me when Cullen was…”

      She raises an eyebrow, “Oh? Are you telling me I’m as tense as a maiden?”

      “Well, it certainly looks like that.”

      Cassandra straightens a little, “You never told me you were nervous.”

      “I had never been naked in front of a man before.”

      “A thrilling experience.”

      I raise an eyebrow, “Why, Cassandra. Are you joking with me?”

      “No,” she smirks. “Why would I do that?”

      “Oh come on. It was scary. I didn’t know what he was going to think.”

      She looks away, “You should never worry about what a man thinks of you. He should love you for who you are, Lydia. If he hesitates when he sees you…”

      “Stab him?”

      “Yes.”

      We both let out a laugh.

      “Wise words for someone who just woke up from a three day sleep,” I say, continuing to unwrap her bandages. “And I’m your friend, right? You can trust me with this.”

      She smiles, “I trust you with my life, Lydia.”

      I smile at that. Pulling the last length of the bandage from her torso, I examine the wound. It’s pretty bad.

      The wound starts just below her left hip and extends towards her belly button. Blood stains the skin around the wound and it’s a bloody and pussy mess. But that’s not the worst part. Her veins near the wound pulse with red—red Lyrium poisoning.

      Cassandra’s breathe hitches and I swallow the lump in my throat.

      Kneeling, in front of her, I get a closer look at the wound. My fingers gently slide across her hot skin, “Cassandra, do you feel alright?”

      “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

      “You don’t feel hot?”

      “No. Why?”

      I look at her, “You’re skin’s a little warm, that’s all. Nothing to stop you from fighting again. The Maker wouldn’t allow that.”

      She’s nervous, but whether because she’s seen how bad the wound is or because Varric may be repulsed if he looks at the wound, I’m unsure. Speaking of him watching, it probably looks scandalous from his point of view. I’m kneeling between Cassandra’s legs, seemingly stroking her stomach, while the Seeker herself is naked from waist up, her breast band the only thing from covering her dignity.

      I snort at the thought.

      “What?” she asks.

      “Nothing. It’s fine.”

      I gather the salve and dip my fingers into it, “Ah, this is gross.”

      She looks at me, “That’s going on my skin?”

      “Smells like druffalo shite,” I say.

      With small, soft strokes, I being to smother her wound with the salve. She winces in pain.  

      I stop, “Sorry.” From the corner of my eye, I see Varric look up. He watches Cassandra carefully. His eyes skim over her form, but he goes back to helping Dorian, a small tinge of red crossing over his cheeks.

      Cassandra shakes her head, “Maker preserve me, why does this have to hurt so much?”

      I laugh, “Well, it is a big wound.”

      After a few minutes of carefully rubbing the salve into her skin, I finally wrap a new set of bandages around her torso. She tries to put her tunic back on, but shudders in pain when she reaches for the item.

      I reach over and grab it for her, tugging it back over her body.

      “Thank you,” she whispers, her hand holding her side.

      “No need to thank me, I’m just a humble servant of the Seeker.”

      Dorian waltzes over, along with Varric and Bull. The mage holds out a potion, “Seeker Pentaghast, one potion to induce vomiting is ready for your use.”

      She glares at Dorian, “How long will this last?”

      “A few days at most.”

      Varric laughs, “Just think, Seeker, you’ll be able to have a few drinks, vomit them up and continue drinking.”

      I splutter out a laugh, but Cassandra doesn’t look amused one bit.

      Dorian smiles and hands Cassandra the potion. She gives me a look then drinks it all in one go.

 

+++

 

Dorian, Sera, Bull and I sit around Cassandra’s bed, playing a game of Wicked Grace, though we bet candles instead of money—or clothing.

      Varric had left earlier to write some letters—I’m guessing to tell Hawke about Cassandra’s injury.

      Cassandra hasn’t eaten anything since she took the potion, because she knows she won’t be able to keep it down. She refuses to eat anything I give her—I know she just doesn’t want to throw it up.

      Sera chuckles as our cards are placed on the bed, “I win all your candles.”

      Bull laughs, “Those will keep you warm at night.”

      “Pfft. Using them for pranks is way more practical,” says Sera.

      I laugh, “Count me in for those pranks.”

      She grins at me, “Sure Quizzy.”

      A few more games are played, but it’s getting late now. Cassandra needs her beauty sleep. And she’s getting annoyed at Sera.

      I usher Bull and Sera from their seats, gathering up the playing cards.

      “We’ll leave you be, Cass,” I say.

      Bull says his good nights and the three of us head to the door.

      I can’t help but cringe at the fun night the Seeker has in store—that potion will certainly kick in soon. I’ve made sure the healers are ready to help her with anything she needs. I give Cass one last grin and she smiles back at me.

      But Sera turns and looks at Cassandra, “Oi Cassandra?”

      “Yes, Sera?”

      “What’s the old Inquisition motto, again?”

      “I’m not saying it again, Sera.”

      “Come on,” grins Sera.

      Cassandra just sighs, “Into darkness, unafraid—”

      “Round the corner, chocolate’s made,” cuts Sera. She bursts out into laughter, slapping her palms against her legs. I let out a laugh, soon joining in on Sera’s laughter.

      “Maker preserve us,” mutters Cassandra from her bed.

      “You just hate chocolate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I love that party banter! I think I laughed at that for about ten minutes when I heard it. But yes, Cass is on her way to recovery!


	52. Chapter 51

Cassandra’s eyes grow wide when she sees me bring her the bread.

      “Come on Cass, you need to eat,” I urge.

      She shakes her head, “No… I’ll just—.”

      I sit down in the chair by her bed, “Do you want to be as strong as you were before?”

      She closes her mouth and looks away, “When will I be able to leave this bed?”

      Dorian walks into the room, “Soon, my dear Cassandra. I assure you that.”

      I can’t help but smile. He’s brought the book, thank the Maker. We decided it would be very appropriate for her recovery. If she can’t walk to the library, we’ll bring the library to her.

      Dorian checks her bandages—clean this time, “Bleeding has stopped and the stitching seems to be holding. Red Lyrium veins are beginning to fade.” He looks at her, “How was last night?”

      She scowls, “I thought I would have no stomach by the end.”

      Dorian just laughs and sits beside me, “Well, because of that, the Inquisitor and I have brought you a gift.”

      Cassandra’s eyes drift to the bread roll on the plate, “Food?”

      “Of course,” smiles Dorian.

      I hold out the plate and Cassandra gingerly takes it from my hands. She begins tearing small pieces from it.

      “Ah, how could I forget?” says Dorian, “You’re actual gift!” He pulls the book from under his chair and places it on the bed.

      Cassandra forgets about eating and reads the cover, “ _The Beauty and the Beast_?” She looks at me for an explanation.

      I puff out my chest, “The smuttiest novel Dorian and I could find. Though not as great as _Swords & Shields_.”

      Cassandra looks down, “Nothing is as good as _Swords & Shields_.” It comes out as a mumble.

      I grin, “So, shall we begin?”

      Her jaw tightens, “You’re… you’re going to read it to me?”

      “It would be a little boring if we sit here while you read,” says Dorian.

      Her blush spreads, “I wouldn’t want you to read it… it’s inappropriate.”

      Dorian waves a hand at her and picks up the book, “Just eat your bread, Cassandra.” He clears his throat, “ _The castle she was trapped in was dark, menacing and desolate. And Friar had thought the owner of this castle was the same. Yet, she began to see him as something other than a beast_ …”

 

+++

 

We take turns in reading passages of the text as Cassandra continues to blush and eat her bread.

      It’s only when I reach a very smutty part of the novel that I stop.

      “ _Her… her… legs were wrapped around his neck as his lips came level with her…_ ” I look at Cassandra.

      Dorian shifts in his seat, “Thinking about your times with Cullen?”

      I ignore his remark, “I didn’t think it would be as detailed as _Swords & Shields_… I mean, I don’t want people listening to us read this.”

      Cassandra tilts her head. She’s certainly relaxed more now. And I think she’s actually enjoying the story—Maker, she’ll never admit it. “Some people might enjoy listening.”

      I stare at her.

      Dorian just laughs, “Oh Lydia, my sweet child.”

      I scan the words on the parchment, “But I just don’t understand how they’re comfortable in that position. Surely his neck would get sore, and her legs…”

      Cassandra snorts, “It is fiction, Lydia. Characters may do as they please.”

      “But if people are reading to get a… realistic view on how this is done… this isn’t right. His neck would break and she shouldn’t be bending that way.”

      “Perhaps you should tell us the realistic version of this scene then, Lydia,” says Dorian.

      I look up at him, “Maker, no way.” The door to the infirmary opens, perhaps a healer has come to clean the utensils. But this conversation is too intense to give up now.

      “Perhaps you should, Dorian.”

      “I’ve already shown you when all of you walked in on Bull and I,” smirks Dorian.

      I laugh, “You should have locked your doors.”

      Dorian just rolls his eyes and looks at the text, “Fine. I do believe she can bend like that. After all, he’s only got her hands above her head.”

      I shake my head, “No. They’re too stretched out. _Swords & Shields_ is much more realistic—they can at least do normal things with their bodies.”

      Cassandra coughs softly, “Lydia is right, Dorian. No woman could stay like that for a period of time… especially when she’s…”

      “A little occupied,” I finish.

      Cassandra nods at me, “And yes, he would get crushed if she keeps pushing her legs against his neck like that.”

      “You know, I was starting to enjoy the book until you two picked it apart.”

      “ _Swords & Shields_ is better,” mutters Cassandra.

      Dorian grins, “My apologies.”

      Cass lifts her head, “We are simply informing you that bedding someone isn’t that… confusing.”

      I nod, “They’re a tangle of limbs. And you can still enjoy it when you’re both…” I stop. “Maker, Dorian stop laughing at us.”                                                                        

      Dorian holds up a hand, “I apologise. It’s very cute when you two get worked up about how two fictional characters are positioned in their time of intimacy.”

      “Yet, I must agree with the Seeker, _Swords & Shields_ is a much better read,” comes a voice. We turn to see Varric standing at the doorway, grinning at us.

      He was the one to open the door.

      Cassandra seems to go completely white and focuses on eating her bread.

      Dorian and I share a glance before looking at Varric.

      I nod, “I must say, that’s true enough. This one is very unrealistic, right Cass?”

      She nods her head but doesn’t say anything. I squeeze her hand and she looks up, yet refuses to say anything.

      Stubborn as always.

      Varric just grins.

      Cassandra seems positively mortified that he heard our conversation.

      But her face falls and I leap from my chair, grabbing the pot next to the bed. I push it in front of Cassandra as she begins vomiting the contents from her stomach—which isn’t much.

      I wipe her head with a damp cloth as Dorian begins mixing a potion to help with the effects. She shudders, tears coming to the corners of her eyes.

      “I knew the bread was bad,” she mutters.

      I smile, “Well, better than vomiting up your empty stomach.”

      Varric pats her leg, “Fancy stuff, Seeker.”

      I hear her groan as another wave of vomiting strikes her.

      She holds her side, “Maker just take me.”

      I wince. Vomiting would certainly hurt her wound. I pat her leg to try and comfort her, to get her to relax.

      Dorian lifts her head gently and places a potion in her hand, “This will get rid of the vomiting. Enough red Lyrium has left your system. And I think you deserve a break.”

      She eyes the potion but doesn’t drink it.

      “It tastes like strawberries.”

      The Seeker reluctantly takes the drink and gulps it down. Dorian takes the pot away, emptying the contents. Cassandra looks at me and I can’t help but smile at her disheveled look.

      “Looking great, Cass.”

      “Ugh. Maker preserve me.”

      “At least your breath smells of strawberries,” says Dorian. “It’s quite a strong scent, believe me.”

      “Yay, no vomit breath,” I say.

      Cassandra shoots me a look.

      “And Cassandra?”

      “Yes, Dorian?” Cassandra looks away from me.

      “You should be able to be up and walking by tomorrow.”

      Her eyes light up, flicking to her sword on her bedside table.

      Dorian begins packing up his utensils and I place the book gently beside Cassandra. She gives me a soft smile.

      Dorian hastily packs his utensils, “Lyds, did you want to help me carry this back to my quarters?”

      “Will Bull be there?”

      “Perhaps. But I’ll make sure he covers up.”

      “Thank you, I would like to keep my sight.”

      Dorian looks at me and grins, “Oh you just don’t appreciate sculptured masterpieces.”

      “Cullen’s enough for me. Though… I can’t imagine how much it would hurt for you. I mean, Bull’s not small.”

      Dorian and I begin walking towards the doorway.

      “I’m quite used to it,” says Dorian with a smirk. “And I’m sure you’re quite used to it now, am I correct?”

      I cough, “Well…”

      “Inquisitor,” breathes Dorian. “My, you and Cullen have been quite busy.”

      We leave the room and I give Cassandra one last smile before she disappears from my view. Dorian grabs my shoulder and we both stand pressed up against the wall, listening into the infirmary. We secretly left the door open to make sure we can hear everything. And luckily the infirmary is empty tonight.

      Dorian nods at me and leans closer to my ear, “Great work Lydia. Leaving them alone is the hardest part—and we’ve done it.”

      I grin, “Mister Pavus, it was all you.”

      We grow quiet when voices filter in from the infirmary. 

      “How are you feeling, Seeker?”

      I peek around the doorway to see Varric sitting on the edge of Cassandra’s bed. The Seeker herself is sitting up, quite close to Varric.

      “I feel better now Varric, thank… thank you for asking.”

      I close my eyes. I thought Cullen and I were awkward.                                               

      Luckily Varric likes to talk.

      “And your wound?”

      “Healing. According to Dorian.” She looks at Varric. “How are _you_ , Varric?”

      “Me? Seeker, I’m the spitting image of perfect.”

      Cassandra nods, seemingly agreeing to his statement. She must be thinking about his arms. But she stiffens, realizing her agreement, “You seem to be sleeping better.”

      “Well, I have a reason to rest easy now.”

      “You looked after me while I was… sleeping?”

      Abrupt change of subject, yet I know she’s brash in everything she does. Her hands turn to fists in her lap and I can’t help but smile. She doesn’t want to muck this up.

      Varric scratches the back of his head, “Someone had to while Stumbles was sleeping. Forced to sleep, might I add. She wouldn’t leave your side otherwise.”

      Dorian nudges me softly, “Very true.”

      Cassandra smiles and looks at her hands, “She is too kind.”

      Varric swallows, “Cassandra, I’m sorry for not telling you about Hawke. It was… wrong, I know. But I just didn’t want her to get—”

      “No, it was my fault. I should not have leashed out as I did.”

      Varric fingers his cheek where she punched him, “I should have told you, Seeker. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look at her.

      “Varric, I forgave you long ago.”

      His head snaps to look at her and their stare at each other for a few seconds before Cassandra closes the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair, while he gently cups her face.

      I shake Dorian’s hand, trying not to squeal in glee.

      The kiss becomes heated, hands desperately pulling each other closer.  

      When they pull away after a long while, Cassandra can’t help but blush.

      Varric runs a thumb over the scar on her cheek, “I thought I lost you, Cassandra. I thought I’d never have a chance to say sorry.”

      “I’m here now,” she says, holding his hand.

      “And that’s more than I deserve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHH more Cassandra/ Varric fluff for all you shippers out there. Bless their souls. Now, we’re heading into the Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts quest, though I do promise there will be plenty more Cassandra and Varric action later on… *winks*.


	53. Chapter 52

Cassandra breathes in the fresh air as we walk along the battlements, “I am still better than you.”

      “Oh come on, I was going easy on you,” I say.

      She places her sword back in its sheath and I do the same with my daggers.

      Cassandra quirks an eyebrow at me, “Perhaps another rematch is in order.”

      “I can always suck you into a Rift.”

      “Oh, then who will help you when you’re reduced to vomiting?”

      “I’m sure Dorian will help me.”

      She sends me a smile, “You need not be so stiff in your movements. Relax. Your daggers are a part of you.”  
      I nod, “Tomorrow morning? You’ll help me?”

      “Any training that I get will be beneficial. I need to get my strength back.”

      We stop at our usual spot on the battlements, near where I first met Hawke.

      Cassandra lifts her head towards the sun and closes her eyes, “It is good to see the sun again.”

      I look at her, “It’s good to see you back on your feet.”

      She’s still not back in her armour yet, even for training this morning. Harriet is working on a new set for her now—but I know once it’s been forged, she’ll be back into it.

      She smiles, “I could not have done it without you, or Dorian.”

      “Oh please, you’re a tough woman, Cassandra. I’m sure you did most of the healing.”

      She lets out a laugh, “It must have been that book you read to me.”

      “Getting some ideas?”

      “Only if I want to break my neck.”

      I grin, “Who knows, if could work with Varric. He’s smaller, so his neck might not be as crushed. I mean, Dorian told me the advantages of height differences and, Maker, the things people can do—”

      “I take it you saw our kiss.”

      I blink, snapping from my rumbling, “And I’m sure this time you were the one to kiss him, if I recall properly.”

       She looks at me, “You must be mistaken.”

      “No way. Dorian and I both saw it.”

      “Oh? So you were spying on us?”

      “Why would we do that? We’ve got better things we could be doing.”

      “Ugh.”

      I wrap my hand around hers, “But Cass, I’m glad you two are back on good terms—great terms by the looks of things.”

      “Thank you, Lydia.”

      I smile at her, “So… have you two done—”

      “Don’t be absurd, Lydia!” Cassandra exclaims, jerking away from me. “We… we…” She tries to find the right words.

      I grip her arm, “I’m just teasing you, Cass. I know you’re more reserved than that.”

      She nods, her eyes finally settling on mine, “Lydia?”

      “Yes?”

      “Maker preserve me, what if I make a mess of this again? Of us?”

      “You’re not going to mess it up.”

      “But I may,” she says. The Seeker leans against the stone bannister, looking out over the snowy mountains, the sun slowly sinking behind them. “It has been… many years since I’ve been in a relationship. Since I’ve been… intimate with anyone.”

      I blink and let out a laugh, “You’re scared about that? The Seeker, only nervous about Bull’s nether-regions, is scared of intimacy. No, I must have heard wrong.”

      She shoots me a look.

      “Cassandra, you are passionate in everything you do. You are the most selfless person I have ever met, your heart is big, your faith is stronger and you’re the Hero of Orlais—not to mention the best friend of the Inquisitor. If you are all of these, you can do _that_.”

      Her lips are pressed tight together.

      “Remember Cass, if he doesn’t like you for who you are, stab him.”

      She smiles at that, “I would like to feel his chest hair.” She starts, suddenly aware of what she just said.

      “I think you’ve wanted to touch it ever since you met him.” I place a hand on her shoulder, “You’re the one meant to be giving me advice, but I will say this. If you trust him, then that’s all that matters.”

      She looks at me, “He’s just so… infuriating at times. But he makes me feel… like a shy maiden again.”

      “Oh? Butterflies in your stomach, shaking hands?”

      “That is you, Lydia.”

      “I _was_ a shy maiden.”

      She wraps an arm around my shoulders, “Perhaps that is me too, then. Yet with a little more experience on my back.”

      “Oh? Really?”

      “Of course,” she winks at me.

      “Well it certainly seemed that way when you two were kissing. The sounds you were both making…”

      She scoffs, “It was a passionate moment.”

      I raise an eyebrow, “Certainly. I could hear.”

      She doesn’t remove her arm from my shoulder, “Should we go down there? They seem to be ready.”

      I smile, “Varric’s waiting for you—shy maiden or no.”

      She just rolls her eyes as we descend the battlements.

      “We’re all ready to hear more of your kissing noises.”

      “Hush,” she giggles.

      Cassandra Pentaghast actually giggled—I made her giggle. Someone give me an award.

      Josephine has organized for my inner circle and the advisors to have dinner tonight, to celebrate Cassandra’s recovery.

      Everyone is gathered around the table when we arrive.

      “Ah, here I was, wondering if the woman was going to show up to her own party,” comments Varric. “Better late than never, Seeker—and Stumbles.”

      I bow at him, “You have my humblest apologies, Master Varric.”

      He just chuckles, shaking his head.

      And so we sit down, easily finding conversation among everyone.

      Iron Bull lets out a laugh as the bowls of stew are passed around, “Cassandra, I bet you’re itching to have some of this.”

      “I haven’t eaten anything but bread in three days,” nods Cassandra. “So yes, I will enjoy this meal.”

      We tuck into our meals, the whole table rowdy and excited. Cassandra, Harding, Josephine and I gossip, with Vivienne cutting in every now and then to give us some exciting news about someone. Sera throws her piece of bread at Dorian, staining his robes. Solas chuckles quietly at the chaos, while Leliana and Blackwall talk about the Grey Wardens. Cullen sends me sweet smiles throughout the meal and I even see Varric watching the Seeker from his spot next to Bull.

      It’s a truly relaxing night—and Cassandra seems at ease with everyone.

      We continue chatting on after dinner, cups being filled continuously.

      Bull holds up his keg, “To Cassandra, for not dying.”

      We all hold our mugs up and repeat his words.

      Cassandra shrinks into herself, smiling, “I do try my hardest.”

      I slap her on the shoulder, “That’s all we could ever hope for.”

      Our celebrations drag on into the night. But the thing that really makes my night, is how happy Cassandra looks.

      She laughs at most of Varric’s jokes and even some of mine, which is great. Because my jokes suck.

      Cassandra’s worries about never fighting again seem to have faded away. She’s just glad to survive such a life threatening wound.

      Most of Skyhold has retreated for the night, yet my inner circle, plus the Chargers still drink on.

      Sera stumbles her way around the table, “Quizzy! Quizzy!”

      I settle her into a seat, “Sera?”

      “How are you and your Cullen-Wullen? Cully-wully?” She leans against me, head flopping back and forth. The table watches her and Cullen is mortified. She giggles, “Lots of men under him.”

      “Under his control, you mean?” I ask.

      “Needs a woman over him. Because positions.”

      I splutter back a cough, “What? I… I…”

      She giggles again, slapping my hand, “I bet you’re going to do it tonight, yeah? Right?”

      “Well, you don’t need to tell everybody.”

      She pushes from me with a big gasp, “Oh!” She cackles. “Positions, remember.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you Sera.”

      She pats my cheek and stumbles away from me, leaving the rest of the table looking at me in silence. Cullen stares at me in horror, cheeks red as ever.

      I rub the back of my neck, “So. Dorian, Bull, how have your nights been?”

      “Don’t set this back on us,” says Dorian. “You already know what our nights are like, you walked in on us.”

      “That was one time,” I say. “You still haven’t gotten over it.”

      Dorian just sighs, “It was a very intimate moment and you ruined it.”

      “Apologies,” I nod.

      Josephine swallows, “I tried to put that morning out of my head.”

      “Ah, so did I,” says Dorian. He glares at Cassandra and I, “If you had knocked first, you wouldn’t have seen anything.”

      “You should have seen Cassandra’s face,” I grin.

      Cassandra shifts in her seat, “I was just surprised.” She glares at Bull and Dorian, “Locking your door when you are… involved in certain intimate activities would have been a beneficial to both parties.”

      Bull just laughs, “Who has time to lock the door?”

      I look at him, “You don’t have time to lock the door? I had time to lock the door.”

      Cullen looks away, “We both had time to lock the door.”

      “You must lock the door,” says Josephine with a nod. Leliana dips her head in silent agreement.

      “Maker’s tits,” says Varric. “Does it matter if you lock the door?”

      “Do you want people walking in on you?”

      “The more the merrier.”

      The table goes silent.

      Varric lets out a chuckle, “I’m joking. I wouldn’t want people spying on us.”

      “‘Us’ being whom?” I ask with a grin.

      Varric squints at me, “Don’t you have a Commander to go sleep with?”

      Cullen chokes on his drink, “I think that is a matter for Lydia and I only. We will make sure our door is locked.”

      “Oh?” asks Cassandra.

      “Shut it, Cass,” I snap.

     

+++

 

The fire place spills shadows through my chambers and I catch sight of the pile of reports I still need to read on my desk.

      But those can wait.

      Cullen’s arms snake around my waist, pulling me into a tight embrace. His lips brush against my ear, “Did you remember to lock the door?” His voice is low, husky.

      “Of course,” I whisper back. We stand in front of the fireplace, our skin warmed by the flames.

      Cullen’s thumbs swirl in circles on my hips, forehead against mine, “Don’t ever leave me Lydia.”

      I look at him, “I will never leave you Cullen.”

      It seems that my words have comforted him, because he wraps his arms around my waist and gently coaxes me to the carpeted floor. The flames flicker throughout the night, yet we somehow manage to continue even after the last amber has died out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Cassandra has been healed and should be back on her feet soon. Mwhaha, mayhem assured! And of course I threw in a little Cullen/ Lydia fluff!


	54. Chapter 53

The Hinterlands buzz with life as Harding and I push on through the grasslands. Trees surround us, while hills flank our left. Lake Luthias glints in the sunlight and I see fish jumping up out of the surface. We had managed to help the last of the refugees to find temporary living areas and are now heading back to the camp.

      Harding sighs, “It is very beautiful out here.”

      I nod, “A shame there was a war just down the hill.”

      Harding grins at me, “Which you helped to stop.”

      “Well, clearing out Mage and Templar fortresses is only one step in the process. But you and your scouts did most of the work.”

      She blushes at that, “You are too kind, Inquisitor. But, do you think we should be heading back? I’m sure they’ll be getting worried by now.”

      I look at her, “You mean Krem will be getting worried.”

      She tries to hide her smile, “He might be getting worried, too. I guess.” Her eyes flick to me.

      And I grin at her, “You’re blushing.”

      “I am not.” She grips her bow a little tighter.

      “I’ve seen you two together,” I say.

      She looks away from me, “We’re closer than ever.”

      I nudge her shoulder, “Hey you both are the cutest things ever. Go have some fun with him.”

      Harding coughs softly, “Thank you, your Worship. I will.”

      We walk in silence for a few seconds. I watch the leaves rustle in the wind, “Are you excited for the ball?”

      “Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Not long to go, only two weeks.” She glances at me, “We’ll be ready for anything, your Worship.”

      “We’ll need to be ready. I don’t know what we’re going to face in there. A lot of political intrigue I’m guessing.”

      “I’ve never been to a ball before,” she says.

      “I’ve only ever been to a few small ones, nothing as extravagant as this one should be.”

      Her eyes light up, “I wonder what food they have.”

      “Oh Maker, I’m wondering the same thing. Chocolate cake, I hope.”

      “Oh! Cheesecakes and tarts.”

      “Lots of wine.”

      “Bowls of candy.”

      “Antivian chocolate.”

      “Ice cream!”

      We giggle to each other, thinking of all the wonderful plates of food. Perhaps the ball won’t be so bad after all. Harding and I can stand at the banquet table all night.

      I hear Harding’s stomach growl and I laugh, “Getting hungry are you?”

      She looks at me and frowns, “I thought that was your stomach.”

      Stopping dead in my tracks, I face the Scout, “No… I thought it was yours.”

      And we hear it again, a growl echoing through the trees. It’s louder this time. It’s only than that we notice the trees around us begin to shake.

      “That is certainly not my stomach,” says Harding.

      Birds caw, flapping from their perches in the trees to escape whatever the thing is. It’s something big. But I can’t see anything, the trees around us are thick.

      And a roar echoes through the trees, shaking their very roots. Harding flinches and I let out a small gasp. I’m sure most of the Hinterlands could hear it.

      But what is it? A dragon perhaps? If so, Maker help us.

      It appears out of the shadows of the trees, lumbering from the thick forest into the clearing Harding and I stand in.

      A bear. A massive, huge, green-eyed black bear.

      A monster.

      Harding’s breathe catches in her throat.

      The bear’s black hide is thick, scars from old battles covering its fur. Its talons are almost as long as one of Varric’s bolts, but it’s the eyes that really send a shiver down my spine. They’re unnatural, certainly not a normal colour. They glow, much like the Rifts… I’ve seen those eyes before.

      I swallow the lump in my throat, hands slowly coming to the hilts of my swords. We should be able to take it out easily I’ve got my daggers and Harding’s got a great shot.

      The forest around us goes silent and the bear lifts its massive head, jaws opening wide. It’s spotted us, yet it’s trying to figure out if it wants to eat us or not.

      I grit my teeth. If only Cassandra was here. She could knock some sense into it. I left her back at the camp with Varric and Dorian, because I didn’t want her to strain her wound too much. But Bull and the Chargers are at the camp as well… if I could just signal them somehow.

      Harding’s eyes dart to the path leading back to the camp. It’s only down a small hill and around the corner. If we ran, we might…

      “On my count, we run.” I say.

      Harding nods, eyes focused on the bear.

      “One,” I say, shifting my body. “Two.”

      Harding eyes the path.

      “Three!”

      We both bolt towards the path, feet pounding against the ground. But the bear roars again, running on all fours to block our only way back to the camp. And it rears up, standing on its two hind legs, front paws clawing at Harding and I as we scramble away from it. It lets out another roar and rushes towards us.

      “Shit!” I yell. “It’s intelligent.” My voice is an octave higher than usual. I run to the other side of the clearing, trying not to think about all the gruesome ways I could die.

      But when I turn, Harding’s standing her ground against the bear. She waves at it, “Mr Bear?” She nocks an arrow, “You’ve got something in your eye.” And she fires.  

      The arrow flies towards the bear, headed straight for its eye, but a massive paw swipes away the arrow mid-flight and the shaft breaks into two.

      Harding steps back, “Oh.” In a blink of an eye she fires another arrow and it slams into the beast’s hide. But the bear is agitated now, and it doesn’t even flinch from the attack. It continues stalking towards her.

      Harding gasps, completely shocked, but the bear begins to run towards her, growling. The Scout runs backwards, but her foot catches on a root and she slams against the ground, bow clattering from her hand. She rolls onto her stomach, trying to crawl to safety.

      But the bear is on her before I can do anything.

      Her name tears from my lips, echoing through the Hinterlands.

      And the bear’s talons rip through Harding. Three long tears cut across her armour, drawing blood. Harding lets out a scream, hands covering her head.

      In a moment of panic, my fingers fumble for anything I can use as a weapon. But the image of Harding’s blood splattering onto the green grass plagues my mind.

      I can’t have her injured as well. Cassandra was enough for my heart to bear.

      My shaking fingers wrap around a small hilt—one of my throwing knifes. With a flick of my wrist, I launch the blade and it sails through the air with a whistle. And it sinks into the bear’s chest, black blood oozing from the wound. The bear’s eyes snap up to meet mine.

      It’s only then I realise where I’ve seen those eyes before. The Rifts. Of course. Wolves have been known to be effected by the Rifts appearing around the Hinterlands. Where the Veil is thinnest causes disruptions in the environment—it causes more aggression in the animals and can change them physically. That’s why this bear is so big. It’s been near too many Fade Rifts. I kick myself for not knowing that earlier—after all, I had read a report on it.

      The bear pounces over Harding and thunders towards me.  

      That’s when I see Krem, Cassandra, Bull, Varric and Dorian run up the hill. They must have heard our screaming, yet they stop in shock to see the scene before them.

      “Son of a nug,” I hear Harding yell.

      I yell at the bear as it comes closer, its green eyes bearing down on me. And at the last moment I step to the side, allowing the bear to rush past me. Its massive body weight propels it forwards and it crashes into the undergrowth.

      I don’t look back as I run to Harding’s side as she kneels stiffly, trying to regain her balance. She has tears in her eyes and I drop to my knees, my arms wrapping around her.

      I pull her back to arm’s length and she wipes her tears, “I thought it was going to eat me… I thought—” Her face falls.

      “Watch out!” yells Krem.

      I look back to see the bear charging at us, my back to it. I wrap Harding in a tight hug. The bear lunges, talons sharp, fangs dripping with salvia. Harding screams, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. My left hand shoots out and I let a yell of fury tear from my lips as green light spews from my palm. A Rift opens right in front of us, an explosion of green. Tendrils snap out to wrap around the giant bear.

      And it’s suspended in the air, talon inches from my shoulder, before it’s ripped violently into the Rift. Its roar shakes the trees, but it’s cut off when the Rift shuts, leaving the clearing in silence.

      Harding shivers in my embrace, head tucked into the crook of my neck. I can hardly keep my eyes open and the dizziness makes me want to throw up.

      The Scout’s small arms are still wrapped around my neck, “Is it gone?” He voice is muffled from my shoulder.

      “It should be enjoying its new home in the Fade,” I say.

      “I thought it was going to eat me.”

       “I wouldn’t let anything touch Lead Scout Lace Harding. The best scout in the Inquisition. And quite a long name you’ve got there.”

      She just hugs tighter, “Thank you.”

      I can feel something warm and sticky on my hand and when I pull my hand away, it has blood on it. “Harding, you’re bleeding.”

      Harding looks at my hand then touches her back, “Now that you mention it, my back is stinging.”

      Krem rushes towards us, falling to his knees beside us, “Lace, you’re bleeding heavily.”

      Harding’s face turns red, “I guess my armour wasn’t much help.”

      I open my mouth, but a wave of nausea washes over me. I leap to my feet, the effects from opening the Rift still haven’t worn off. I scramble to the nearest tree, vomiting up the contents of my stomach.

      Someone comes to stand beside me, a hand on my back, “The tables have turned.”

      “I need that potion you took to stop the vomiting,” I retort.

      “Are you alright, Lydia?”

      I straighten, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, “As great as I can be when a bear the size of a dragon decides to…” I swallow, eyes flickering from Cassandra’s. “It nearly ate her.”

      Cassandra pulls me into a hug, “You did well, Lydia.”

      I let out the breath I was holding, “I should have seen it coming.”

      “Some things happen too fast to comprehend.”

       My hand flies to my mouth and I quickly push Cassandra away from me, bending to vomit some more.

      Tears prick my eyes, “Will this get any easier? Opening Rifts is pretty cool, except when I have to feel sick each time.”

      Cassandra just laughs, “You’re the Inquisitor, you should know.”

      I shoot her a look, but Harding catches my eye. She standing now, yet the three claw marks slashed across her back are bloody, her armour shredded from the bear’s talons.

      I smile, “Let’s get out of here before more bears join us.”

     

+++

 

I help Harding from her mount and she smiles at me. It’s glad to actually be home and I know Harding just wants to have a nice piece of cake—which I must say is a great plan. Word seems to have spread, Dorian, Leliana and Cullen stand in the Great Hall, waiting for us. And many others seem to be smiling at us. When the spymaster spots us, she steps forward, a hand coming to Harding’s shoulder.

      She says something, but I don’t hear as Cullen wraps his arms around me. I relax into his embrace and a laugh escapes my throat, “Maker, I hope I never see a bear like that again.”

      “I heard what happened,” he whispers. “You were brave.”

      I breathe in his scent, “Thank you.”

      He kisses my cheek, “It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

      I gently pull away from his embrace, “I have faced much worse before, but no, though it did take a good chunk out of Harding.”

      Harding looks at me, “Only a few scratches.”

      Leliana nods, “It’s good to see you in high spirits, Harding.”

      “Oh, it’s gonna take more than a bear to bring me down, ma’am.”

      Leliana smiles at that, “I admire your confidence.” She looks up at me, “It would be best to take her to the infirmary.”

      I nod.

      “Krem will be there to stitch you up.”

      “Oh?” asks Harding, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. “Why… why Krem?”

      “I need the other healers for the final group of soldiers from Adamant,” explains Leliana. “They’ve got their hands full—and Dorian is still caring for Cassandra.”

      Harding swallows, “I…I…”

      “Come on Harding,” I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her away.

      Leliana gives me a wink before nodding to Cullen and heading off to the rookery. I smile inwardly. Leliana truly does care for her scouts and she’s certainly not as distant as she was when I first met her. Perhaps Josephine has helped her crawl from her shell. And it helps that she knows everything—Harding’s crush for Krem would certainly be a well-known fact among Leliana’s scouts. I mean, he did kiss her in front of everyone in Skyhold.

      So we walk to the infirmary and I make Harding sits beside Cassandra, who’s getting a potion to stop the last of her pain from the wound. Krem and Dorian share potions and bandages, talking to each other about their lives in Tevinter.

      Cassandra takes one glance at Harding and looks at me, “It seems that every friend you make gets injured.”

      I laugh, “Well, I’d say it’s a good way to bond.”

      “Must certainly when you’re stuck in a bed for three days and I only have you to talk to.”

      “I’m not that bad.”

      “I can tell this to my grandchildren,” says Harding. “The bear the size of a dragon.”

      “It was pretty bloody huge,” I agree. “You should ink the bear onto your shoulder for memories.”

      “And I’ll make sure they add you to the inking as well,” grins Harding.

      Cassandra just looks at us, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that when you’re older.”

      “I’ll get your face on my shoulder too Harding,” I grin. “We can be twins.”

      Harding lets out a laugh, “It’s the opportunity of a life time.”

      “Oh yes. Everyone wants their friend’s face on their shoulder,” sighs Cassandra.

      “You’re just jealous,” I say. “I’ll get your face inked as well. On my butt.”

      “Ugh.”

      “Hush now, ladies. I don’t want you rapturing an artery, Cassandra,” says Dorian as he checks Cassandra’s wound. It’s healing quite nicely, the skin red and raised, but it’s not in any danger of bleeding again. “Beautifully healed, my love.”

      “I do try my best,” she mutters.

      “Must have been Varric’s kiss,” I say.

      Harding gasps, “He kissed you again?”

      “Ugh,” says Cassandra. “Yes.”

      “Ah, correction, she kissed him,” I say.

      “There is a difference,” agrees Krem, placing his healing kit next to Dorian’s. Dorian nods at him in agreement.

      “Oh!” grins Harding. “That’s so romantic.”

      Cassandra can’t help but smile, “Yes, it was just that.”

      Harding settles on the edge of the bed, while Krem stands beside her, getting his kit ready to heal her. I sit cross-legged on Harding’s bed, her soft brown hair in between my fingers, ready to braid it, Trevelyan style. Cassandra on the other hand watches us with a smile, reading the rest of _The Beauty and the Beast_ that we didn’t get to finish.

      Krem coughs, “Right. Your wounds, Lace. Let’s check them out.”

      I feel Harding stiffen as Krem lifts her tunic to rest on her shoulders. She shivers in the cold air, eyes wide. I just grin at her, wiggling my eyebrows. Harding tries not to laugh.

      Krem lets out a whistle of surprise, “How are you not screaming in pain?”

      “Oh, I’ve kept it bubbled inside of me for a few hours now,” says Harding.

      I glance at her back. The wounds are long, three cuts from her left shoulder to her right hip and blood cakes her back. They’ll certainly scar. And I can’t imagine how much pain she must be in.

      So Krem begins to clean her wounds as I continue braiding her hair. It’s nice just to relax a little, even if Harding’s getting stitches put in her back. Krem can’t wipe the smile from his face—I think he’s just glad to see Harding alive from her duel with the beastly bear.

      After a while, Lace seems to relax into Krem’s touch and I can tell she’s kind of enjoying it. After all, Krem is being as gentle as he can.

      Goose bumps spring up her arms when Krem’s fingers brush over her skin and she sends me a surprised look. I just wink at her. Cassandra smiles from behind her book.

      “Ah, so you  _do_ enjoy that book,” says Dorian. He comes to squish in beside me.

      Cassandra’s smile vanishes, “Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

      “Oh, I thought their intimate positioning was too inaccurate for you.”

      Harding’s eyes widen.

      “Though their positioning isn’t great, I don’t mind the story. She sees the beast for someone other than his looks.”

      “Oh yes, well they did have a few passionate nights together.”

      “You’ve read it?”

      “Of course, I finished it just before we started reading it to you.”

      Cassandra just rolls her eyes, “I should have known.”

      I grin, “Has the beast’s neck broken yet?”

      “No,” says Cassandra. “They were much gentler in their latest… passionate moment.”

      Krem clears his throat, “What exactly are you reading?”

      “Smutty literature,” I say with a grin.

      “Sounds… wonderful,” he says with a frown. “Why?”

      Cassandra just sighs, “The plots intrigue me. And the smutty scenes just happen to be written in.”

      Dorian hums, “I’m sure that’s why you read them.”

      “She’s getting tips,” I say.

      Cassandra throws the book at me and I duck. The volume lands on the ground with a smack.

      My eyes flick back to Cassandra, “Well, now you broke his neck.”

      Harding lets out a small snort, cheeks flushed.

 

And so when dinner is ready, we move down to the great hall, surrounded by my inner circle. They toast to Harding and I for a great battle against the bear. Soon, an eating contest gets underway with Varric and Bull going against each other, Sera joining in as well.

      Harding giggles at the food dangling from Bull’s mouth as he laughs in Dorian’s face, splattering food everywhere.

      Yet, I do notice in the quieter moments, Bull’s concern for Harding. He knows how Krem feels for her and he knows how shaken she must be from the experience—and she’s got three scars to show for it.

      Later that night, I see Bull giving Harding a few warm words, a smile on his lips and a hand on her shoulder. She blushes back at him and even more so when Krem comes to talk to her.

      I, on the other hand, slip into Cullen’s chambers and climb into his bed. He wraps his arms around me, warm and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh poor Harding!!! I had planned to have something drastic bring Krem and Harding together and a Fade Rift Infected bear was somehow the first thing that came to mind- just like those wolves in the Hinterlands. But in other news, more fluff will come (Harding and Krem included) along with the ball… Stay extra groovy children of the Maker.


	55. Chapter 54

The morning air is crisp as I walk into Josephine’s office, “You, ah, wanted to see me, Josie?”

      The ambassador looks up from her desk, “Inquisitor! I… I heard about that bear. Are you two alright?”

      “A little shaken, but fine, Josie. Thank you. Harding’s got some neat scars to show for it.”

      She nods, “I… I should look into those animal movements. The Inquisition has plenty of information on the Rifts affecting the environment. We’ll make sure nothing like that happens again.”

      I sit down in the chair facing Josie, “Hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. The bear was there and we just happened to wonder near it.”

      Josephine looks at the papers on her desk, “Yes. But I’m glad to hear you’re both alright.”

      I smile, “Of course. As Harding said, it’s gonna take more than a bear to bring us down.”

      Josephine clears her throat, “Perhaps the ball will be the death of you then, but, we must discuss it.”

      I roll my eyes, “Ugh.”

      Josephine’s eyes grow wide and she stares at me.

      Sitting up straight, I swallow, “Maker, I sounded like Cass, didn’t I?”

      “Slightly, yes,” nods Josephine. But she smiles, “You two have such a big impact on each other.”

      “Well, now I sound like her.”

      “Which isn’t such a bad thing,” smiles Josephine. She clears her throat, “Now, where was I? Ah yes, the ball. I’m assuming you’ll want Cassandra, Dorian and Varric to accompany you. I can get invites for everyone, yet it would be much subtler to have a party of four.”

      “Can Harding come?”

      “We’ll need her to organize scout formations when we’re trying to find the assassin.”

      I grin, “And we’re going to raid the banquet table.”

      Josephine gasps, “Lydia, you know that’s no way to behave at a ball. Especially one as prestigious as this one.”

      “Oh come on, we’ll leave the fruit for everyone else.”

      Josephine just gives me a look, “I think it would be best to help you learn the Game.”

      “The game?”

      “No, the _Game_. There is a difference, I assure you. This isn’t any game—like Wicked Grace— which, I am superb in as well.”

      I scoff, “Cullen and I nearly had you.”

      Josephine smiles, “This Game is about life and death. One wrong move—one wrong look at someone and it can all come undone.”

      “I think I prefer Wicked Grace. The only thing I lose is a tunic.”

      Josephine giggles, “A few tips from Leliana and I will have you and your team set. It is not so bad once you get used to it.”

      She stands from her desk and I follow as she leads me from her office. We walk slowly as we talk.

      “Now, dancing. I hope you know how to dance, Inquisitor.”

      I scoff, “The amount of suitors I had to dance with in the smaller balls my Mother held was enormous.” I send her a smile, “I hated them all.”

      She nods, “Ah, but at least you got to practice many times.”

      I scratch my head, “I guess that’s true.”

      “Perhaps Cullen will dance with you,” says Josephine.

      I feel my cheeks burn, “Oh… I… I’m sure there will be more pressing matters to attend to.”

      “Don’t be silly, there is always time to dance with your partner.”

      “Even Leliana?”

      Now Josephine is the one to blush, “Well… perhaps…” she clears her throat, “I wouldn’t know if she would want to…” She looks at me.

      I let out a laugh, “I guess we’ll both just have to see what the night has in store for us.”

      “Yes, yes we will.”

      I feel as though my head is going to explode with all the new information. The Trevelyan’s are certainly formal and I do know which folk to use when eating and what to say when greeting people, but I never had the whole of Thedas depending on me. Now one wrong gesture and I could ruin the whole night.

      But with Josephine’s help, I’ll be alright… I hope.

      Trying to take in the information is hard when Josie talks at a pace I can hardly keep up with, yet I think I manage to file the important points in the back of my mind.

      I thought strikes me as we walk slowly through the gardens. I grin at my plan, “How is Leliana?”

      “Oh, oh, she’s… good,” says Josephine, eyes flicking away from me.

      “Just good? I thought she’d be excellent.”

      “Oh Maker, she’s wonderful,” blurts Josephine. But her hand comes to her mouth and she glances at me nervously.

      I wiggle my eyebrows, “Wonderful, huh?”

      “I’m sure you say the same of Cullen,” the ambassador says, straightening her back. She tries to send me a smug smile, but the blush on her face gives her embarrassment away.

      “Of course… he’s absolutely wonderful.”

      Josephine just giggles, “Don’t tell her I said that. It would ruin her reputation.”

      “We’re all wonderful in the Inquisition.”                                                                    

      “I must certainly think so,” nods Josephine.

      I grin at her, “You’re blushing.”

      “Don’t be absurd.”

     

 

+++

 

It’s just after lunch when Josephine and I finish talking—we had lost track of time, both too absorbed in telling our stories that we kind of just forgot to do anything else.

      It’s only when Vivienne waves us down that we both stop and look at her.

      “My darlings, the uniforms have arrived,” says the mage. She gives me a wink.

      I frown, “Uniforms?”

      Josephine squeals, clapping her hands together, “Come, come.”

      Josephine just grins at me, not giving away any information as she takes me to the tavern, Vivienne in tow.

      “Ah, this is the tavern, Josie. Are you thirsty?”

      “Don’t be silly, this is where I’ve had the uniforms brought to.”

      We move to one of the upper rooms in the tavern where several red uniforms have been fitted onto metal mannequins. The uniforms all have a blue sash hanging across the chest, with a belt tied across the pants. The belt buckle is the Inquisition’s sigil, coated in gold. The leather gloves and boots are a dark brown. Yellow pads poke from the shoulders and golden buttons adorn the tunic. I must say, it’s a very nice piece of clothing.

      Yet it’s the dresses that drawn my attention.

      The red material—the same colour as the man’s uniforms—glitter with thousands of silver sequins, covering the skirts of the dresses. The bodice of each dress is laced with silver patterns and a silver Inquisition sigil sits on the breast of each dress. Red definitely seems to be the main colour for the Inquisition.  The long gloves are a dark blue, matching the blue sash on the men’s uniforms. The men’s and women’s uniforms match so people at the ball will know we’re all together. That’s a smart thing to do.

      I almost forget to breath.

      “I do hope you like them, Inquisitor,” says Josephine. “I know red wouldn’t be my first choice, but—”

      “I love them Josie!” I squeal. “They’re beautiful.”

      Vivienne smiles, “We’d hope you would say that, my dear. Now go, try one on.”

      “Me?” I ask.

      “Yes,” grins Josephine, “You are the Inquisitor, you deserve to wear one first.” She holds my hands and the two of us jump up and down, squealing.

      “Maker, it’s been ages since I wore a dress like this,” I say.

      “Go, go!” says Josephine, pushing me towards the wooden changing screen.

      At first, I struggle getting the thick, long skirts to go over my head, but soon, I’m wriggling into the piece. The bodice sits tightly against my torso, the glittering skirts spreading out just below my waist to stop a few inches from the floor.

      But, I struggle to tie the laces together at the back on my bodice.

      Josephine pokes her head around the screen, “Inquisitor, I must insist, I’ll tie it up for you.” Her fingers are shift, tightening my dress as her ties the red lace. She motions for me to leave the cover of the screen and I walk out from behind the screen with her in tow.

      Vivienne gasps, hands clasping together, “My dear, you look wonderful.”

      Heat creeps up my neck, “Oh, you’re just being modest.”

      Sera walks into the room and looks at the uniforms, then to me, “Quizzy, lookin’ good.”

      “Thanks Sera.”

      She tilts her head, “If you think you’re getting me in one, than you’d be wrong.”

      I snort, “Oh they’re not that bad.”

      Sera shakes her head, “Nah. No way. I’ll stick to the pants, thanks.” She sits on top of the table, cross-legged.

      “You look truly splendid, Inquisitor,” says Josephine. “Now for the final touches, the gloves and necklace.”

      I slide the gloves onto my arms as Josephine clasps the silver necklace around my neck. I can’t stop grinning. Wearing a nice gown, plus raiding the banquet table with Harding. A ball couldn’t get much better than that.

      But, something thumps up the stairs and I turn to see the door pushed open, Cassandra walking in. She’s irritated, “What is this about dresses and—” She stops, her face falling as her eyes settle on me, “Oh Lydia, you’re beautiful.”

      I cough, “Thank you Cass.”

      Josephine smiles, a hand coming to Cassandra’s shoulder, “And I’m sure you will look just as lovely.”

      Cassandra jerks away, “Maker preserve me, I’m not wearing _that_.”

      “Yes you are,” says Vivienne. “It’s for the ball.”

      “Oh come on,” I say. “What’s so bad about a dress?”

      Cassandra shifts on her feet, “I… I feel more comfortable in a tunic and pants.”

      Sera chuckles, “Go on Cassandra.”

      “Yeah, go on,” I say.

      Cassandra glares at me then to Josephine, “You cannot be serious.”

      “Do you want to be the talk of the ball? And not in a good way,” says Josephine. “It is only for one night. And after all, I’m sure you’ll be as stunning as Lydia.”

      I wink at the Seeker, “Varric might drop dead from the sight.”

      “We just need to make sure the measurements are right, my dear,” says Vivienne. “Then you will have free time.”

      “Ugh,” says Cassandra, rolling her eyes. She snatches the dress from the stand and disappears behind the changing screen. I can hear the clang of her armour as she undresses.

      “Speaking of free time,” I say. “Did you want to go at the library?”

      “Anything to keep my mind from this hideous dress,” comes her reply.

      “Well, reading probably won’t help with that then. Those heroines in the books seem to wear dresses all the time.”

      “Yes, but they choose to wear dresses. I am being forced.”

      “Perhaps Varric would be a better choice of distraction.”

      Sera lets out a cackle, “Oh, good one Quizzy. Ain’t that the truth though?”

      Cassandra just sighs from behind the screen. While Cassandra changes, Harding makes her way up and stands in the doorway, “You wanted to see me, Lady Josephine?”

      “Oh yes, Lace! Our dresses have arrived for the ball.”

      Harding stares at the dresses, eyes wide.

      “Don’t tell me you don’t want to wear one either,” mutters Josephine.

      Harding clears her throat, “No… I just… they’re beautiful.” She looks at me and she grins, “Preparing for Cullen, your Worship?”

      “Why of course,” I say with a bow to her. “And you Krem?”

      Harding coughs, “Oh, I don’t know…”

      I just grin at her, “He did kiss you in front of everyone.”

      “Not to mention he cleaned your wounds,” adds Josephine.

      The Scout can’t help but blush, “Well… I mean, if you think so.”

      Harding sits beside Sera on the table, while Vivienne and Josephine ready the men’s uniforms.

      Cassandra walks from the safety of the changing screen. The dress suits her, her broad shoulders bare except for the thin straps, her lithe figure hidden under the bodice. But she certainly looks beautiful, her hair needs a little styling, yet it doesn’t ruin the look—she’ll be a sight on the night. Varric would approve. But the scowl on her face ruins the image.

      “Cass!” I yell, “You’re gorgeous!”

      She mutters something and looks at Josephine, “It fits. So can I take it off now?”

      Josephine bites her lip, “Perhaps we should speak to Leliana. She can have the final say.”

      I blink, “You mean, we have to walk to Leliana’s office?”

      “How else are you going to get there?”

      “Send a raven,” I say. “She can come to us.”

      Josephine frowns, “Why?”

      “I… ah… kind of can’t walk in this.”

      Cassandra nods, “Maker guide me if I have to walk in this in front of people.”

      Vivienne just laughs, “Come my dears.”

      Cassandra and I share a glance before being pushed out of the room by Josephine. Harding and Sera follow behind, giggling to each other about something—probably how stupid this looks. Ball gowns are for balls, not for walking around Skyhold in.

      Cassandra has gone completely red as Josephine leads us down the stairs to the main floor of the tavern. And everyone goes silent. Every pair of eyes is on us, watching us we both stiffly walk down the stairs.

      My eyes meet Cassandra’s and a feel a hand wrap around mine.

      It’s only when we’re halfway down the stairs that the tavern door is pushed open, revealing Bull, Dorian, Krem and Varric. They laugh at something, but their laughs die off when they notice how silent the tavern is.

      Leliana and Cullen enter last, talking quietly about the ball.

      Bull scratches his chest, “Ah come on, we’re not that bad, right?” He nudges Varric. “Go on, tell a story to get everyone talking again.”

      But Varric’s distracted by something else entirely. And he can’t talk his eyes off Cassandra, his mouth open in a small O.

      Josephine, who’s at the bottom of the stairs, dips her head, trying to hide her smirk. Cassandra’s grip on my hand hardens and I try not to squeal out in pain. But Cullen’s grinning at me and I smile back, feeling a blush come to my cheeks. Dorian is grinning like an idiot as well, eyes flicking back and forth between Cassandra and Varric.

      Our work here, is done. We’ve brought the two together. I can die happy now.

      Bull on the other hand is staring at us in confusion and Sera flicks a rubber band at him.

      “Seeker…” says Varric, trying to gain some of his dignity back. “I didn’t think you were one for dresses.”

      “I’m… I’m not. I was forced,” says Cassandra, voice breaking. She swallows and glares at me.

      I hold up my hands, “Hey, it’s Josephine’s fault.”

      “Oh, no,” says Josephine. “I was simply after Leliana’s opinion.”

      “I think they look wonderful, Josie,” comes Leliana’s voice. She finds behind her hood, yet I can see her shoulders shake as she tries not to laugh at the spectacle before her.

      I take a step down the stairs, but I feel my feet catch on the hem on my skirts. And I feel myself tipping. The tavern gasps in unison.

      I try to stop myself from falling as time slows down. Josephine’s face slowly turns to horror as she realizes I’m about to fall on her, while Cullen holds his arms out, even though he’s nowhere near me. But it’s the thought that counts.

      Time speeds up and I let out a scream.

      But I don’t topple down the stairs. Something’s keeping me steady.

      I look but to see Cassandra gripping onto the edge of my dress, Harding’s arms wrapped around the Seeker’s waist, with Sera and Vivienne keeping them steady at the top of the stairs.

      The tavern is silent, everyone staring at me and I balance myself before straightening my dress, “I… planned that. I needed to know if you could work as a team,” I nod to the women who saved me. I clear my throat, “Congratulations, you passed.”

      “Yay!” says Harding.

      Josephine shares a look with Leliana before looking at Cassandra and I, “It would perhaps be better if we didn’t have you in dresses…” She sighs sadly, “Those dresses were made by the best seamstress in all of Orlais.”

      Leliana nods, “It will be for the best. I’m sure the Inquisitor won’t want to be running around the Winter Palace in a dress.”

      I blink, “I’d probably break my neck.”

      “So it is settled then?” asks Cassandra. “I can take this wretched thing off?”

      “Don’t be mean to the dress. What did it ever do to you?” I ask, grinning at her.

       Vivienne looks at Josie, “If the Inquisition wears the same uniform, people will still know we’re altogether. The tunic and pants won’t be so bad.”

      Josephine nods sadly, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We will all wear the same thing.”

      “Ah come on, it would have been great to see the Seeker dance in a dress,” says Varric.

      I raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh? Who would she dance with?”

      In a chorus, Harding, Sera and I cough, “Varric,” and cough again to cover our comment.

      I turn to the two, sending them a grin.

      The tavern erupts into “Ooohs” and wolf whistles.

      Cassandra slaps a hand on her forehead, “Maker take me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice fluffy chapter for you all. Yet, next chapter we’ll be onto the ball. The Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearst quest in the game is very long and drawn out, yet I’m hoping to simplify it a little so it’s not as boring—cause who wants to read Lydia running around Halamshiral listening to secrets and finding hidden documents. Ugh, it truly wasn’t my favourite part of the game, though I didn’t mind the end of the quest. It was just a little confusing for me.


	56. Chapter 55

 

Skyhold is a rush of energy as everyone prepares for the ball. Which is tonight. After coming to the decision for Inquisition guests to wear the red tunic and pants two days ago, I haven’t really had time to relax.

      And if I’m honest, I truly am nervous about this ball. I don’t know what to expect at Halamshiral. And we have to find the assassin before it’s too late. But what scares me more than assassins are the people at the ball. They’ll all be looking to the Inquisition, they’ll all be judging our every move.

      But, Bull promised to have a celebration when we get back, so that’s something to look forward to.

      It’s midday before we start our journey to the Winter Palace. Our weapons and armour are stored in a barrel for us to use if needed. And Harding, who’s accompanying me in the Palace, preps her scouts. Her scouts are dressed in their armour, as they’ll wait outside disguised as guarding the Inquisition’s horses.

      The ride takes almost four hours and when we finally reach the Winter Palace, it’s already sunset. The sky is cloudy, rays of orange and pink spreading across the patches of clear sky. It’s cold though and my breath swirls out in front of me as I breathe.

      With our horses taken away by stable boys and the scouts ready to wait out the night, we head towards the Winter Palace. Josephine walks beside me while the others go off ahead, checking the place out.

      I make sure my blue sash is correctly tied around my waist and over my shoulder. And that my leather gloves are clean. Maker forbid that I arrive to a ball with a speck of dirt on my uniform. And I am kind of glad I didn’t have to wear the dress, though it was beautiful. I wouldn’t have made it off my stallion’s back without falling off, tangled in skirts.

      Josephine keeps her hands clasped behind her back and I straighten, as some of our guards walk in front of us, ready to strike if someone decides to attack us.

      Josephine looks at me, “The political situation in Halamshiral hangs by a thread. The Empress fears our presence could severe it.”

      We walk through the gates and I’m greeted with the many guests, ladies dressed in beautiful gowns and men in handsome suits. Perhaps it would have been best to have worn the dresses. But almost every guest wears a mask to hide their face. Which is bad—I won’t be able to make out who anyone is, or see their expressions. Facial expression can give quite a lot away, even a killer might make a certain face. The masks make my job a lot harder.

      Josephine nods to a man walking between the guests, nodding at them in greeting. His hands are clasped behind his back, much like Josephine’s and a mask hides his face. Yet, his shaven head gives me a good feature to distinguish him by.

      “The Grand Duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him.”

      I nod curtly.

      “Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains an opportunity… if not a clear advantage,” says Josephine.

      The guards stop and step to the side, fists coming to their chest in salute as we walk along the path.

      The man Josephine named as the Duke turns towards us. Duke Gaspard if I can remember from the many meetings in the war room. His armour is adorned with a fur sash, along with golden studs running down his blue tunic. Steel pauldrons protect his shoulders, the armour wrapping around his arms. He has more protection than anyone here. Smart.

      The Duke dips his head, “Ah, it is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Trevelyan. The rumors coming out of the Western Approach say you battled an army of demons.” His mask hides any emotion. “Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais?” He crosses his arms.

        I wrack my brain for something nice to say. Clasping my hands behind my back, to copy Josephine’s stance, I nod, “I can see many benefits to such an alliance.”

      “Keep the image firmly in your head. We may see it materialize by the end of the evening. I’m not a man that forgets his friend, Inquisitor. You help me, I’ll help you.” He turns away from us in a smooth movement and I follow him as he walks slowly. “My Lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper?” He stops to look at me, “They will be telling stories of this into the next age.”

      I swallow, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Duke Gaspard. I look forward to ending this civil war.”

      “As do I, my friend. The Empire needs stability and security, now more than ever. If you have the safety of the Orlesian people at hear, Inquisitor, perhaps you will look into something for me. This Elven woman Briala—I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these “ambassadors” all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.”

      I nod, “That sounds like something I should look into.” A lead perhaps? Or a rumor to distract me? He may have invited us here, but that doesn’t mean he might try to take advantage of the Inquisition.

      He sighs, “Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains.”

      Josephine doesn’t say anything beside me.

      “We’re keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor, shall we?” He nods to both of us before turning and heading towards the court.

      I give Josephine a look but she just dips her head, “It would be best to do as he says—the court will be waiting.”

      I can feel the eyes of the guests around me.

      “Is that the Inquisitor?” asks a woman.

      “What? A rogue? Don’t be absurd,” comes a man’s reply.

      “One of the Trevelyans, I’ve heard.”

      Walking with Josephine, we make our way up the stairs towards the interior of the Palace. But the exterior is certainly wonderful. The whole building has been painted blue, with golden archways and staircases. Water foundations take up most of the gardens, while green bushes flank the high blue walls which encircle the whole Palace. Like a prison.

      I smile at the guests watching the two of us as we make our way to the doors. A steel gate stands in our way, two guards standing on either side of it.

      I push the gates open, taken back by the marble statues lining the walkway. The golden doors stand at the end of the walkway, beckoning us towards the Grand Hall.

      Josephine looks at me, “Inquisitor… I must warn you before you go inside: how you speak to the court is a matter of life and death—remember what I was telling you a few days ago. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.”

      “I’ll keep my guard up, don’t worry.”

      “Remember—much like Wicked Grace, you must never reveal your cards. When you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer in the Fade with the fear demon.”

      Oh Maker.

      “It might be a good idea for the others to hear this warning,” I say. “Cassandra… is usually not the subtle or cautious type.”

      “I’ll have a few…discreet words.” Josephine lets out a breath, “Everything should be fine.”

      I grin and begin walking towards the golden doors.

      “Andraste watch over us all,” I hear Josephine mutter.

 

The interior of the Palace is quite warm as we step inside. A grand staircase greets us and we begin our descent. The marble stairs have been draped with a blue carpet, to make it seem more beautiful than it actually is. Typical.

      The Vestibule is full of guests, each talking in small groups, sending looks to others across the room. Though their masks hide their faces, I can see their eye movement.

      We finally crest the stairs and I glance around. More people stand to the sides, speaking quietly. Music filters in from the Grand Hall. Candles light up most of the room, shining on the various oil paintings of people I’ve never seen before. Tables and chairs have been placed around the room for the guest’s convenience, yet I can tell no one’s making a move to sit down yet—how weak would they seem if they sat down at the beginning of the night? I groan inwardly, why is it so hard to impress these people. Golden lion statues stand against the walls, as if guarding the Palace. And I don’t fail to notice some of the blue doors locked, a sash covering the doorways to stop anyone from entering. And from what I hear from some nobles talking, it is because of renovations.

      Josephine excuses herself and peels away from me to find Leliana, who’s apparently already in the Grand Hall.

      Andraste’s tits, now she’s left me by myself.

      But I spot Cullen, Varric and Cassandra standing to the left and I almost run towards them.

      They look up at me and Cassandra just sighs, “The sooner we go in, the sooner we can get this over with.”

      Cullen nods, “It’ll take some time to get our men into the Palace. I’ll alert you when we’re ready.” He gives me a smile.

      Varric just chuckles, “But seriously, did you look at the steps? I think they’re glided.”

      I leave the three be after a few minutes of nervous chatter, before finding Duke Gaspard standing in front of the doors to the Grand Hall. He nods at me and together, we head inside.

      Gaspard steps aside, allowing one of his Heralds to bow to me. I smile back, with a small bow and he leads me towards the stairs which I’m guessing I must go down.

      The massive ball room spreads out in front of me, as I come to stand at the each of the stairs, waiting for the others to arrive. A massive chandelier swings from the ceiling, while below it is a polished dance floor. The tiles are blue—to match the colour palette of the whole Palace. Golden eagles stand watch in this room, wings spread in mid-flight. The others comes to join me of the stair case, looking rather nervous. Cullen, Leliana and Josephine move down to the first landing and line up. Cassandra, Varric, Dorian, Harding and I follow them and I can’t help but take a nervous breath.

      Guests watch on from the upper level, as the Herald clears his throat and steps up to the railing in the middle of the upper level. All eyes to turn him.

      The Herald nods, “And now, presenting: Duke Gaspard de Chalons.” The Duke bows deeply in the middle of the landing and begins to make his way down the small flight of stairs. “And accompanying him…”

      Leliana nods at me and I begin walking down the marble stairs.

      “Lady Inquisitor Lydia Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick.”

      Standing on the landing, I bow to Empress Celene at the other end of the dance floor, who’s stepped forward at the sound of my name. Her blue dress glimmers in the candle light and the golden frill at the back of her dress looks rather constricting. But, the mask of her face covers all information from me. I can’t see what she thinks of me.

      “Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Fereldan, crusher of the vile Apostates of the mage underground.”

      I hear Varric chuckle behind me, “This guy writes better fiction than I do.”

      “Champion of the Blessed Andraste Herself!” continues the Herald.

      I stay on the landing, waiting for the others.

      Dorian laughs quietly, “Did you see their faces, ah, priceless!”

      The Herald doesn’t miss a beat, “Accompanying the Inquisitor: Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble house Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants Guild.”

      Out of the corner of my eye, I see Varric step down to the landing to stand next to me and bow at the Empress.

      “Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.”

      Dorian steps forward next to Varric, bowing before Celene.

      “Scout Lieutenant Lace Harding, Head of the Inquisition’s Scouting forces, daughter of Van and Dana Harding.”

      Harding does the same, though she’s trying hard not to blush as the Empress bows back to her.

      The Herald clears his throat, “Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—”

      “Get on with it,” huffs Cassandra as she comes to stand next to me.

      “—Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine.”

      I see Josephine nod at me and the five of us begin making our way down the steps to the tiled floor. The guests around us watch closely.

      “Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honneleath,” continues the Herald.

      Out of the corner of my eye, I see him begin to walk.

      “Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.”

      A few whispers spread around the room at the mention of Kirkwall.

      “Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine.”

      Leliana begins walking forward, just behind Cullen. If I’m honest, I have no clue what I’m doing and by Cassandra’s sour look, she doesn’t either. But Harding gives me a grin, eyes flicking to one of the many banquet tables.

      “And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition.”

      Now all of us are walking slowly along the dance floor to the Empress.  

      It seems like a thousand year pass before we reach the other side of the floor. There is someone standing with the Empress now. Her long pale dress is beautiful, I must admit. And her blonde hair is like Celene’s, only shorter.

      Duke Gaspard bows to the pair, “Cousin. My dear sister.”

      “Grand Duke,” says the Empress. “We are always honored when you presence graces our court.”

      The Duke crosses his arms, “Don’t waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude.”

      I’m shocked by his tone.

      “We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests.”

      The Duke just bows. When he straightens, he nods at me, “Inquisitor.” And he walks off.

      “Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace,” says Celene. “Allow us to present out cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.”

      The Grand Duchess bows, “What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities.” She gives me a cold smile. “We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.” And with that, she leaves for the balcony behind them. She doesn’t seem impressed that we’re here.

      Celene watches her cousin leave before turning back to me, “Your arrival at the court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day.”

      “I’m delighted to be here, Your Majesty.”

      “We have heard much of your exploits, Inquisitor. They have made grand tales for long evenings. How do you find Halamshiral?”

      I blink, trying to find the right words, “I’ve… never seen anything to equal the Winter Palace.”

      “We hope you will find time to take in some of its beauties. Feel free to enjoy to pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.”

      Oh Maker.

      I bow deeply to her and allow the others to follow me off the dance floor. Cullen and Josephine head off in different directions, while Cassandra, Varric and Dorian mumble to each other. I wave them away to enjoy the ball, while Harding begins her scout of the Winter Palace. If anyone can find something suspicious, it’s her.

      Leliana stays with me, “Inquisitor. A word.”

      Leliana looks completely different without her hood covering her head. Her short red hair looks soft to touch, with a single braid dangling against the side of her face.

      We walk through the ballroom, guests smiling and nodding at us. When we reach the Vestibule, Leliana walks closer to me, “What did the Duke say?”

      I keep my voice soft, “He points the finger at Ambassador Briala.”

      “The Ambassador is up to something, but she can’t be our focus. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side.”

      Leliana brings me to a couch and we both sit down, earning some looks from the guests. 

      “Empress Celene is fascinated by mysticism—foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort rubbish. She has an ‘occult advisor’. An apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of the court as if by magic. I’ve had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable, of anything.”

      I nod, “That sounds exactly like the person we’re looking for.”

      “She’s worth investigating. Can’t be sure of anything here. Both leads point towards the guest wing. It’s a promising place to start. I’ll coordinate with our spies to see if I can find anything better. Lace will be scouting the halls as well, so go to her for some more information. I’ll be in the ballroom if you need me.”

      She stands, “Good luck, Inquisitor.”

      I sigh, “I think I’m gonna need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Righto!! My god, let’s get ready for the action! I’m going to skip quite a lot out from the game, just because there’s quite a lot of back tracking and needless running around. So hopefully I can condense everything down! And I just really wanted Harding at the ball, so I made her come with Lydia!! Stay groovy children.


	57. Chapter 56

As I walk through the Guest Wing, I try to piece together the clues so far. Some elf servants spoke about a package in the upper guest wing. And what of the blood of the floor? Some of Briala’s people had said someone was missing—he went into the servant’s wing and hasn’t been seen since.

      All of these are suspicious, yet it doesn’t help me much. Even Briala’s own notes, with the castle staff all going into the servant’s wing at certain times of the day, don’t give me much to go by. 

      Pushing the doors open to the gardens, I’m greeted by three women, dressed in identical green dresses. Their masks cover their face, but they look like sisters to me.

      “My Lady,” one says, turning to me. “My Lady Inquisitor.” The three women swarm me and I try to act casual.                                                                                       

      “May we have a word? It is very important.”

      Another one speaks, as they curtsy at the same time, “The Empress has sent us with a message for you.”

      I squint at them, “How can I be certain this is a message from the Empress.”

      “We three wear the masks of House Valmont.”

      I stare at them, not sure what to say. So what about masks?

      “They signify that we are public faces of the Empress,” explains the third woman.

      “They are also extremely fashionable.”

      “I’m… always honored to hear from Her Majesty,” I say.

      “Oh, she is the honored one, Inquisitor.”

      “Empress Celene is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste in her holy endeavor. She would pledge our full support to the Inquisition as soon as the Usurper Gaspard is defeated.”

       Andraste guide me, of course nothing is easy.

      “That’s a generous offer,” I say.

      “The Empress believes wholeheartedly that the Inquisition is our best hope for peace in these difficult times,” says the second woman.

      “She looks forward to cementing a formal alliance.”

      The first woman nods, “As soon as Gaspard is out of the way. But we have taken enough of your time.”

      The three of the bow to me again, “Please, enjoy the masquerade, Inquisitor.”

      I bow to them and they walk away, headed into the Palace. Swallowing, I glance around the gardens. More guests converse out here, some eating, others watching the rest.

      And I spot Harding, thank the Maker. She’s staring up at the far wall, at a wooden trellis. I frown and walk over to her, “Harding? What have you found?”

      She jerks, “Oh, Inquisitor. It’s you… with so many guests, you can never tell who wants to speak with you.”

      I smile, “Have all the men chasing you, huh?”

      She just laughs, “Oh no. They’d look right past me. I’m a little short for their liking.”

      “Well, I know Krem likes it.”

      She blushes, “That’s because he’s a gentleman.” She clears her throat, “But, I think there’s something up there. We could climb this wooden trellis… I mean, the other doorways are blocked off, but if we can get up there, we may find something.”

      “Good thinking, Lace. This is why you’re the head scout.”

      She grins, “Just doing my job.”

      I frown, “What, everyone here is going to see us climb this. We need a distraction.”

      Harding bites her lip, “A distraction…”

      Her eyes flick to one slightly intoxicated man leaning against the railing. He speaks loudly to some women, but they shuffle away from him. I can’t tell who he is because of his mask.

      If only Josephine had made us wear masks. It would have been much easier. I pull a coin from my pocket that I had found in a hidden nook. Taking aim, I peg it at the drunk and it hits him in the mask. He cries out, stumbling even worse than I ever could. He spins on the spot, but keeps spinning, turning it into a game.

      Guests watch him in disgust as he laughs at himself. Harding and I share a laugh before beginning our ascent up the trellis.

      Harding is quick to climb the trellis, nimble as a cat, while it takes me a little longer to reach the top. But, I finally make it with a little help from Harding.

      This upper garden walkway has another door leading into the unknown in front of us, but Harding tugs my sleeve, pointing at the trail of blood on the polished floor. The bloods leads to a second door on the left side of the walkway.

      We gingerly walk towards it, not knowing what to expect. The door seems to be locked, but I pull out a Halla statue I happened to find when walking through the guest wing. I don’t know why I decide to place it on the shelf next to the door, but some part of me tells me to do so.

      And when the door clicks open, I grin, “Well, I’m glad that worked.”

      I push the door open and I’m hit with the smell of rotting flesh. Bodies are scattered around the room, pools of blood covering the carpet. I jerk back with a gasp and Harding brings a hand to her mouth, hiding behind me.

      Eyes quickly scanning the room, I see a note poking out from behind a table. I dart between the pools of blood and snatch the piece of parchment before jumping back to where Harding stands. My eyes take in the swirling script, a letter addressed to Celene. It talks of working together to stop Briala from taking control. The name at the bottom is Duke Gaspard’s.

      I sigh, “Come on, let’s see if we can find anything else.”

      Harding takes one last look at the bodies before walking from the room.  

      Making our way back towards the first door, I open it to find a large library. Books fill many shelves along the walls, while six urns stand in the center of the library.

      “Oh Andraste preserve me, look at all these books,” I breath.

      Harding stares at the seemingly endless books, mouth open wide.

      I begin scanning the leather spines, seeing with the Empress has a taste in any of the books I read. Harding skips around the polished floor, watching out for any servants that might be in the area.

      It’s only when I find _The Beauty and The Beast_ that I let out a laugh, “Lace, the Empress likes the read smutty literature.”

      Harding turns to me, “Oh really? We should sign it.”

      I glance at her, “Oh yes, she’d be happy with that.”

      I pull the book out to look at the cover, but it doesn’t slide out fully. Instead it acts like a lever and Harding lets out a mumbled squeal when the wall beside us slides back.

      The two of us share a look and enter the secret room. Inside is more bookshelves and a desk in the center of the room.

      A letter has been placed on the desk and I quickly read over it, discovering that Celene doesn’t feel safe and since her Court Enchanter isn’t here, she can’t trust anyone else but the Lady M this letter is addressed to.

       Lady M? Who could that be? Perhaps her occult advisor Leliana suggested to investigate. Well, at least I know this occult advisor is here tonight.

      After a thorough search on Harding’s part, she places her hands on her hips, biting her bottom lip, “If I’m not mistaken… with this secret room, these books on potions and a few ingredients, I’d say this is the occult advisor’s office.”

      I glance around the room, eyeing the weird artifacts placed along the walls, “It’s certainly looks that way. That whole library out these must be the occult advisor’s room.”

      Harding nods, “But if she’s not here right now, she must be joining in at the ball, somewhere.”

      We leave the secret room, and the grand library behind, heading down some more glided stairs. More bookshelves line the walls, candles shining flickering shadows through the archives. We stop to examine some more books, but none seem to open any more secret rooms.

      Harding pulls a book from the shelf and giggles, “ _Sword & Shields_, I found it!”

      I laugh, “Let’s sneak it to Varric for him to sign and we’ll put it back after.”

      We both laugh at our marvelous plan, but a bell chimes throughout the library. Harding lets out a yelp and drops the book.

      We both look at each other before bursting into fits of laughter. But then it strikes me what the bell is actually for. Harding realizes to because we both begin running towards the exit. Where ever it is.

      “That’s the bell, we need to get back to the ballroom,” I say as we run. “They miss us already!”

      Making it to the other end of the library, we push a door open, bursting from it in fits of laughter. And it’s only then we notice that we’re back in the Vestibule. A set of stairs leads down to the Vestibule’s main floor, while across the floor is another set of stairs, identical to the one’s we descend now. Perhaps that way leads to more secret rooms.                                                                                                                                 

      We walk swiftly, trying not to gain any looks our way as we giggle to ourselves. I can see the ballroom’s doors ahead, but I notice Cassandra standing by herself.

      “Cass!” I say, walking up to her.

      Harding winks at me, secret language for “I’m going to look for more clues”, and I wave her off. If anyone can find out more, it’s Harding.

      Cassandra looks at me with a scowl, “This ball is a waste of time. Like all Orlesian foolishness. Let’s find the Venatori collaborator and get out of here.”

      I frown, “Not enjoying the food, I see.”

      She just sighs, “No. They don’t have caramel cake.”

      “Well, that is a disaster. Come on Cass, loosen up a little. Have some fun.”

      “I don’t want to.”

      I sigh, rubbing my head, “If I find any caramel cake, I’ll be sure to bring you some.”

      Cassandra nods, “Thank you Lydia.” Her eyes scan the crowd around us.

      “Cass… if you’re worried about what they think of you—”

      She straightens, “I do not care what these nobles think of me. It’s foolish of them.”

      I smile, “You would have looked beautiful in that dress.”

      Her hazel eyes flick back to me.

      And I continue, “I’m just saying. But, if you’re bored, I’m sure Varric could use some company… perhaps a dance.”

      “Ugh. No.”

      “Oh come on. You two are kind of a thing now. I mean, you’ve kissed twice. Surely a dance would cement the relationship.”

         She blushes, looking down at her feet, “Go… go speak to Cullen or someone.”

      “You’re blushing just thinking about him.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous,” she pushes me towards the ballroom. “Now go. And Lydia?”

      “Yes?”

      “Come get me if anything happens.”  
      I nod, “You’ll be the first one I find.”

      Leaving Cassandra by herself, I move towards the doors, the music floating through the doors. Oh, I hope I get to dance.

      But I stop, something nagging at the back of my mind. Spinning, I begin heading back towards the door Harding and I escaped from at the other end of the Vestibule. Perhaps I should look more into the occult advisor’s office. We might have missed something. Celene doesn’t feel safe at her own ball and asked her occult advisor to look out for her. And what did Leliana say? The best place to strike at Celene is from her side. Gaining Celene’s trust would all that the occult advisor needed to strike from her side.

       I hasten my pace but stop when I hear footsteps heading down the stairs. I’ll just keep my head down when they pass.

      “Well, well, what have we here?” the voice comes from the stairway. A silky smooth woman’s voice.

      I look up slowly, stopping dead in my tracks.

      The woman finally comes into view as she descends the stairs in such poise. Shadows shroud her face and most of her dress, yet I can see two golden eyes, watching me carefully.

      “The Leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the Faith,” she continues. “Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste Herself.”

      When her feet touch the landing, the shadows move from her face. Her raven black hair is tied back into a bun, while her fringe falls neatly down both sides of her face. A heavy necklace dangles from her neck, encrusted with gold and obsidian. The dress she wears is dark red velvet, with golden embroidery through the low dipping collar and bodice, while the skirts billow out to touch the floor. I notice blue feathers sprouting from the shoulder of her dress, like a badge.

      “What could bring such an exalted creature to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?”

      “I’m… here on urgent business. Courtly intrigue and all that,” I say.

      “Such intrigues obscure much, but not all,” she says. “I am Morrigan. Some call me Advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the Arcane.”

      I blink. She’s the occult advisor. Lady M mentioned in Celene’s letter. And possibly the killer.

      Morrigan bows and begins walking. I follow beside her as she speaks.

      She looks at me, “You and your dwarven friend… have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the Palace.”

      I cough, hands clenching into fists. She knows we were in her office.

      She stops walking and turns to me, “Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

      I tilt my head, trying to read her face. She doesn’t wear a mask like any of the others, so I must give her credibility on that part. It should mean she has no reason to hide her face. I nod at her, “I hope so. I could use another ally here.” Yet I’m not sure whether to trust her yet.

      “A sentiment I share, considering recent events,” she answers.

      “Recent events?”

      She gestures and we continue walking, “Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter.”

      I try to not act surprised. She can defend herself… and this Tevinter agent? He must have been working for the killer. So if she killed this agent, she couldn’t be the one we’re looking for. Right? Oh Maker, this is making my head spin.

      “So I offer you this, Inquisitor. A key found on the Tevinter’s body.” She stops walking again and hands me a golden key, encrusted with sapphires. “Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet, if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.”

      “You left Celene alone,” I say. “Is that wise?”

      “I must return to her anon, but she is safe enough… for the moment. ‘Twould be a great fool who strikes at her in public, in front of all her court and the Imperial guard.”

      She does have a point, but I still don’t trust her, “What’s your interest in protecting Empress Celene? Are you her bodyguard?”

      Morrigan just laughs, “Do I seem a bodyguard to you? If anything were to happen to Celene, eyes would turn first to her ‘occult advisor’,” she gestures to herself. “Even if they knew otherwise. There are sharks in the water and I will not fall prey to them. Not now, not ever.”

      I nod slowly, glancing at the key in my hand, “Briala’s people are whispering about disappearances in the servants’ quarters. This key may lead there.”

      “The Ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not?” She nods and we continue to the ballroom. “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies around and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting.”

      She leaves me at the entrance to the ballroom, walking off to find the Empress, while I’m left standing by myself. Leliana said she’d be in the ballroom so I guess I could go tell her what I’ve learnt.

      Walking through the throngs of guests, I hear someone yell Josephine’s name. Looking for the source of the voice, I see Josephine standing next to a railing, beside a younger girl, who could barely be 16.

      “Josephine!” says the girl. “Oh Josephine, is this her?”

      I stop beside Josephine who gives me a tight smile and lets out a sigh, “Inquisitor, please allow me to present to you my younger sister. Yvette Gabriella Montilyet.”

      I smile at Yvette, who’s dressed just like everyone else, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yvette.”

      “Inquisitor,” she says. “I’ve heard so much about you! But not as much as I want. Josephine writes, but she never _tells_ me anything. Is it true the rebel mages in Redcliffe were performing blood rites and orgies before you stopped them?”

      I cough, trying to hide my laugh.

      Josephine sends her sister a look, “Where did you hear such nonsense?”

      “Everyone in Anvita says so! Is it true?”

      I look to Josephine for help, but she’s just as shocked as I am. I clear my throat, “Ah… I’m afraid some up it may be false… especially the orgies.”

      “Oh,” sighs Yvette. “That is a shame.”

      The three of us stand in silence for a few seconds before I look at Josephine, “Are you enjoying the ball?”

      Josephine nods, “I see many—”

      “The dancing is so dull, Your Worship,” cuts Yvette. “But the Empress’ gallery is magnificent.”

      “Yvette…” says Josephine, teeth gritted.

      “Sorry, Josie.”

      I smile, “Go on, Josephine.”

      “Half Val Royeaux must be empty, so many of the Empire’s finest are in attendance. They’ve noticed the Empress paying you special attention, but they don’t quite know how to take advantage of us yet. This uncertainty won’t last long, I’m afraid.”

       I nod, but an idea comes to my mind. I grin at Yvette, “This may be my only chance to heat about when Josephine was a girl.”

      “Oh yes!” says Yvette. “Has she told you about when she was ten and—”

      “Yvette, stop,” says Josephine. She sends me a look.

      “Fine… what about when we were climbing the cliffs by the—”

      “No.”

      “She once told the Duke of—”

      “Absolutely not.”

      Yvette huffs, but her eyes flick to me, “She still plays with her doll collection when no one’s looking.” Her words come out fast.

      “Yvette,” hisses Josephine, blushing quite profusely. “That’s… absurd. Absolutely preposterous.”                                                                                                                     

      Yvette just snickers.

      I laugh, “Well, you two enjoy the rest of the night.”

      “Oh, we will, Inquisitor,” says Yvette. “Thank you.”

      I smile at her, then turn to Josephine, “I’ll come get you when something drastic happens.”

      “Which always does,” smiles Josephine.

      “Don’t forget that dance with Leliana.” And with that, I walk away from them. Yet I can hear Josephine groaning as Yvette hammers her with questions as to who this Leliana is.

      It’s only then that I see Cullen surrounded by nobles, all trying to talk to him at once. As I get closer, I can hear what they’re saying.

      “Are you married Commander?” asks a masked man.

      Cullen stutters, “I… not yet. But I am already… taken.”

      “Still single, then…” presses the man.

      But Cullen sees me and nods, “Inquisitor! Did you need something?”

      The nobles standing around Cullen murmur to each other before leaving us.

      Cullen clears his throat, “The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better.”

      I smile, “You sound like Cassandra. She can’t stand the people.”

      Cullen laughs, scratching the back of his head.

      “I see you’ve attracted a following. Who were all of those people?” I ask.

      “I don’t know, but they won’t leave me alone,” sighs Cullen.

      If I was a young maiden here, I wouldn’t either. Cullen looks very handsome in his uniform, his strong form outlined in the tight fitting clothes, not to mention his soft blonde hair.

      “Not enjoying the attention, then?” I ask.

      “Hardly,” he say. “Anyway, yours…” he clears his throat, “Yours is the only attention worth having.”

      I blush at that, “Oh… thank you Cullen.” Eyes flicking around the room, I swallow my nerves at the sudden thought, “I… don’t suppose you’d save a dance for me?”

      “No, thank you,” he says.

      My heart sinks, “Oh.”

      “No!” breathes Cullen, “I didn’t mean to—Maker’s breath! I’ve answered that question so many times I’m rejecting it automatically.” He finally meets my gaze, “I’m not one for dancing. The Templars never attended balls.”

      I nod, “Um, well, I’d better… go find some more clues. There are assassins to catch.” Turning on my heel, I inwardly kick myself for asking him. He wouldn’t want to dance in front of all these people. Yes, we may share each other’s bed, but we’re both still a little nervous around each other, still trying to figure out how this all works.

      A hand wraps around mine, “Lydia.”

      I turn my head to look back at Cullen, “Yes?”

      “You look wonderful in the uniform, by the way. And you looked beautiful in that dress.”

      I smile, leaving him to his group of pestering nobles. Warmth spreads through my body at his words.

      And it gives me the much needed energy for the fight ahead.

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Classic Cullen, being smooth as usual! But yes, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I hope it was too boring, as the quest itself was actually quite boring!! Be anyway, we must continue.


	58. Chapter 57

Standing in the servants’ quarters, I can’t believe the key actually worked. And the barrel with all of our armour and weapons was placed in the Hall of Heroes, right near the servants’ quarters.

      After gathering my team, and Harding, we headed straight to the servants’ quarters. No one saw us enter, thank the Maker. And since I don’t know what to expect in this wing, I decided it would be best

      I struggle with the final few straps of my armour, the buckles stuck.

      Warm hands stop my struggling and I glance up to see Cassandra with a soft smile on her face, “I knew you couldn’t dress yourself.”

      “Oh please, I’m perfectly capable. It must have gotten banged up on the way here.”

      Cassandra just gives me a look and with a final tug, my armour is in place.

      “You’re just stronger than me,” I argue.

      “I’m sure that’s what it is,” says Cassandra.

      With a nod, I lead the others around the corner.

      My breath escapes my lungs when I see the bodies lying on the floor, blood splattered across the tiles and wallpaper, like some twisted piece of art.

      I hear Cassandra gasp behind me, “Someone will be held accountable for this.”

      Varric just curses.

      I kneel beside one of the bodies, an elven woman. Cold. Checking, the others, I take in their pointed ears and their temperature. All elves, all cold.  They’ve been here for quite some time then.

      Cassandra looks at me, “All elves. A pattern, perhaps?”

      I bite my lip, “Some of Briala’s people had said that some of their people were missing.” I pull the notes I found about the movements of some of the servants, “Employees were recorded entering the servant’ quarters, but never leaving. This must be them.”

      The sleeping quarters reveal a similar scene, though these servants were killed in their sleep. Eyes closed, heads resting on the pillows, at a quick glance, you would assume they were sleeping. Except the blood-soaked sheets give it away.

      More bodies are scattered around the gardens as we traverse on. We’re silent as we move, weapons out in case the murderer decides to try and kill us too. There’s a fountain up ahead, but there’s something lying in front of it.

      Edging closer, I see that it’s a man lying face down. His mask covers his face and his robes suggest nobility. There’s no need to figure out how he died. The dagger in his back explains it all. I try not to look at the pool of blood seeping into the stone path.

      Frowning, I send a quick glance to the others, “This was no a servant. What was he doing here?”  
      “The dagger… it has the crest of the Chalons family,” says Cassandra. “Duke Gaspard will answer for this.”

      “You’re right, Cassandra,” says Dorian. “That’s his family crest.”

      Harding, Varric and I share a glance with each other.

      Varric just chuckles, “Well, Seeker, Sparkler, I’m glad you know about family crests.”

      Harding nods, “I may have skipped that part of training.”

      I try to act casual, “I may have skipped those classes too when my mother taught me.”

      Cassandra just sighs.

      Clearing my throat, I give a curt nod, “I guess it’s time we had a word with the Duke.”

      A scream cuts through the air and I spin to see an elven servant running from another garden path. A masked man runs after her, clad in white leather from head to toe. His twin daggers slice through the air and blood spews from the servant’s back. She lets out a gasp before collapsing to the ground, her back torn open.

      The murderer gives me one last look before smashing a smoke grenade on the ground. In the few seconds the smoke impairs my vision, I hear the man jump. When the smoke clears, I see him watching us from the balcony on the second level. And he walks away with such calm.                                                                                               

      Varric gives me a look, “Who was that? Looked like a harlequin.”

      “Beats me, harlequin or no. Let’s go, we might be able to catch him.”

     

+++

 

The grand apartment is a maze as we rush through it, trying to find any clues as to who that masked man was. Only, to make matters worse, Venatori agents patrol the lower floor. We take them down with relative ease, but Cassandra has a cut on her lip from a punch she didn’t stop in time. People are going to start wondering where she got that from.                                                                                                                                    

      The second floor is dusty, the furniture draped over with white sheets, as if everything’s about to be shipped away. And it’s quiet, too quiet.

      We find a room empty of Venatori agents—thank the Maker. A fire burns in the hearth and the furniture here is actually polished and clean. A locked door to the right of us glows in some weird sort of magic.

      “A vault?” asks Harding.

      We walk over to it and Dorian places some of the Halla statues on the shelves around the door, “These Halla statues seem to be locks of some sort—infused with magic perhaps.”

      I swallow, “Don’t use them all, I want to keep one.”

      His eyes flick to me and I dangle the Halla charm from my necklace in his face, “They’re my favourite animal.”

      “I thought bears were your favourite,” grins Harding.

      I look at her, “Not after our experience.”

      She shudders, “I’m not going anywhere near a bear again.”

      The door creaks open after glowing blue and I peer in. The vault is relatively empty, apart from a table, a few books and a painting. But on the table is some sort of necklace with intricate carvings etched into the gold. It looks elven.

      “An elven locket?” I ask.

      “I’ll admit: I didn’t think the Empress was this sentimental,” says Varric.

      I pocket the necklace and glance at the others, “Come on, let’s go.”

 

 

It’s only when we sprint into a large hallway that a small group of Venatori agents spin to our loud foot falls.

      Harding lets an arrow fly, the steel tip sinking into one agent’s chest and I lung towards the nearest Venatori.

      I twist my dagger to cut across the Venatori’s leg, the other dagger heading for his throat. But the flat of his blade hits my wrist, thwarting my attack to his throat. My hand tingles at the blow and I reel backwards, other dagger still cutting across his leg. He stumbles back and I send my heel into the wound. He yells out, but I manage to leap towards him, burying my blades into his chest. Dorian sends a frosty cloud towards the remaining Venatori and Cassandra and I spin around each other, slicing at them. We take them down just as quickly as the first floor.

      We know their weaknesses now, thanks to Leliana’s information she told us a few days ago. I’m grateful for the knowledge now, as we hardly get injured. It’s those Rift infected bears we’ve got to keep an eye on.

      An arrow slams into the last Venatori, spending him face first into the ground.

      I flick Harding a thank you smile and she grins back, “This fighting’s making me hungry, where’s that cake table?”                                                                                      

      Cassandra flicks her sword, the blood splatting against the polished floor, “I still want that caramel cake, Lydia.”

      I laugh, “Maybe when we get back, I’ll take some time out of my investigation to make sure you get some.”

      “Thank you.”

      “And Harding? Chocolate cake for you and I?”

      “You know me too well.”

      Dorian sighs, “You’re all missing the most delicious delicacy here. Pickled pork’s feet.”

      Cassandra snorts, “You will never see me eating that.”

      We all share a laugh.

      Cassandra nods at me, “Lead the way.”

      I take a step forward, but feel a gust of wind brush past me. Eyes flicking to the windows, I notice they’re closed, so the wind couldn’t have come from there.

      Spinning, I see Varric’s face turn to horror, eyes widening at Cassandra, who’s sheathing her sword.

      “Cassandra!” his voice echoes through the hall, as he pushes Cass aside, shielding her with Bianca. In a puff of smoke, a blade smacks against the crossbow, bouncing from the harlequin’s hand from the impact. Varric, face twisted in anger, levels his crossbow to the harlequin’s head and fires. The bolt flies out of the other side of the man’s head, leaving him to fall to the floor, brains splattered around him.

      We stand in silence, Cassandra staring wide eyed at Varric, “How… how did you know he was there?”

      Varric scans Bianca for any signs of damage and when he’s satisfied there isn’t any, he looks at Cass, “A ripple in the air. A slight sound of movement—boots against the tiles. And a small gush of wind, like someone just walked past you.”

      Cassandra swallows, “I… I… thank you.”

      “It was my pleasure, Seeker. Keep you sword out next time,” he says. “And remember, you owe me.”

      Dorian and I share a grin.

      “Owe you what, exactly?” I ask.

      “A dance, perhaps,” comments Dorian. “The Orlesian nobility certainly love to watch a good dance. And height differences especially.” He winks at Varric, who’s staring at the mage in shock.

      Cassandra nods and clears her throat, trying to gain back her dignity. I can tell she’s thankful for Varric’s help, but I’m sure she’s kicking herself for not being able to detect the stealthy harlequin.

      I place a hand on her shoulder.

      Footsteps echo through the hallway and we turn to see an elven woman walking towards us, face hidden behind her silver mask. It seems everyone apart from the Inquisition and Morrigan wear a mask. But her dress certainly isn’t as lavish as the others. A simple green and it seems easy to move in.

      “Fancy meeting you here,” says the woman. She continues walking towards us and up the stone stairs to a small balcony. “Inquisitor Trevelyan. What a surprise. My reports said you were terribly boring.”

      I frown. There’s nothing boring about me.

      She turns to me, “We haven’t been properly introduced, have we? I’m Ambassador Briala.”

      I nod shallowly, still angry about her comment, “It’s nice to meet you finally, Ambassador.” I say it through clenched teeth.

      “Your reputation for getting results is well deserved.” She walks out to the balcony and we follow, “You’ve cleaned this place out. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you’ve beaten me to it.” Standing at the edge of the balcony, her big grey eyes flick to me, “So… the Council of Heralds’ Emissary in the courtyard… that’s not your work, is it?”

      I remember the crest on the dagger, “Gaspard killed him, I think. The knife has a Chalons crest on the hilt.”

      “I knew it,” says Briala. “I knew he was smuggling in Chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the Palace? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight.”

      I frown, “Are you sure he’s behind this? He was too… easygoing for a man plotting treason.”

      “Don’t let his charms blind you. He’s Orlesian. That smile is his mask,” she says. “I misjudged you, Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having. What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it.”

      I smile, “You know how to make a sales pitch, Ambassador. I’ll give you that.”

      “I do, don’t I?” Her smile isn’t exactly warm, but she seems a woman of her word. “I know which way the wind is blowing. I’d bet coin you’ll be part of the peace talks before the night is over. And if you happened to lean a little bit our way?” She walks towards right edge of the balcony, with no railing, perhaps used for quick getaways. “It… could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought.” And with that, she jumps from the balcony, nimble as a cat before running off into the shadows of the gardens.

      Cassandra scowls at the Ambassador’s receding form, “More politics and double-dealing. It there anyone here who is not corrupt.”

      “Well, I’m not Seeker,” grins Varric.

      “Ugh. You’re corrupt in all the wrong places.”

      Dorian and I share a snort.

      We decide it would be best to follow the Ambassador’s way down to the ground floor.

      We help each other down the rather tall platforms, one person at a time. Dorian extends a hand out to me. I take it gratefully as he helps me down to the second platform.

      “I must agree with you, Cassandra,” says Dorian.

      “That’s a first,” mutters the Seeker.

      I grin at her, keeping my arms out to catch her as she helps herself down the platform.

      Dorian ignores her remark, “There is so much conniving and backstabbing here, it makes me homesick.”

      Harding lets out a small laugh.    
      Varric laughs, “Well said Sparkler, well said.”

      Heading back to the Palace’s interior, I see Briala’s people have taken out the rest of the Venatori agents hiding in the gardens.

      Thank the Maker, I’m exhausted and we’ve hardly gone through half the night yet.

      Before we head back inside, I check to make sure everyone’s still fresh faced and proper. Cassandra wipes the blood oozing from the cut on her lip, while Harding ties her hair back into a neat bun. Dorian straightens the ends of his moustache, giving me a wink. 

      Luckily we find the kitchens in the servants’ quarters again, so we can change back into our formal wear, much to Cassandra’s disgust.

      And with a final goodbye to the others, I take a breath and head back into the Vestibule, ready to face the Game.

 

+++

 

I pocket the letter I had found in Gaspard’s trophy room. He wants to some of his Chevaliers to move in on the Western Wing. But it never said why.

      Huffing, I curse this whole ball. Why can’t things be easy?

      The bells are ringing again, so I head straight towards the ballroom.

      Cassandra gives me a smile from her post near the stairs. Three women stand behind her, but I can see them watching the Seeker.

      “What is Lady Pentaghast wearing?” asks one of them.

      I shoot them a look and Cassandra stiffens. She heard them.

      “Her uniform is much nicer than your dress,” I retort. The ladies all shrink back in surprise, whispering to each other. But they watch me in fear more than anything.

      Cassandra gives me a grateful look and shuffles away from the women.

      I walk with her to grab a drink of water.

      Her fists are clenched, jawline even more pronounced, “This is why I do not like balls.”

      “They’re jealous, that’s all Cass. Believe me, they probably don’t have the freedom you have. The Inquisition is good that way.”

      She takes a gulp of her water, “Stooping so low as to comment on my clothing? This was compulsory to wear.”

      I smile, “Would you have preferred the dress?”

      “Andraste preserve me, no.”

      “I’m sure Varric would have,” I begin walking back to the ballroom.

      Cassandra shoots me a look, “Perhaps.”

      “Make sure you save a dance for him.”

      “No promises there, Lydia,” comes her reply. “But if the Orlesian nobility love height differences…”

      “Go for it. You may never have another chance.”

      I don’t wait for her reply as I enter the ballroom.

      The Empress’ cousin is standing at the railing, watching some of the guests dance. She hears me enter and turns, “Inquisitor Trevelyan. We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party.” Her voice is smooth and slow.

      “Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?” I ask. I try to sound formal, yet I’m sick of meeting all of these people. I really need to continue my investigation. Yet, Josephine’s voice echoes through my mind—everything I do is judged. Talking to the Grand Duchess is the least dangerous thing I could be doing.

      “Indeed you can,” she smiles, though her face is obscured from the mask. “I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of… a certain person.” She turns smoothly on her heel and walks along the level, “Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

      We stop at the top of the stairs. I hesitate. Should I dance with the Grand Duchess? She would have had plenty of dance lessons. And me? Well, not so much. Sure, I’ve danced with suitors before, but never someone this important. But, the court will approve of my actions… well, I hope so. Maker, I’ll need a drink after tonight.

      I swallow and smile at the Duchess, raising my voice for the others to here, “Very well. Shall we dance, your Grace?”

      “I’d be delighted,” she answers, just as loud.

      She leads my out onto the dance floor and we begin the dance. Eyes turn to as we join the others. She stands on the right—a sign that she’s the ‘lady’ in this dance. I don’t mind, but I’ve never led before.

      “You are from the Free Marches, are you not?” asks the Duchess as we move through the first steps of the dance. The easy steps. “How much do you know about our little war?”

      “I assure you, the effects of this war reach far beyond the borders on the Orlesian Empire,” I say. Maker, I’m glad I went to my mother’s history classes, I’m just making up crap as I talk. I was always a great talker, who managed to not talk about much at all.

      We begin taking swooping steps across the floor, arms stretched out to our sides, touching hands.

      “Perhaps it does. I should not be surprised to find the Empire is the center of everyone’s world.”

      I cough at that. It’s certainly not the center of my world. I’m sure a lot of people here have bigger problems than what the Empire is doing.

      “It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations. Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason. The security of the Empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

      The dance makes us fall into a low bow to each other.

      I avert my eyes from her, “Do we both want that, Lady Florianne?” We straighten and move together, hands brushing as they meet out in front of us.

      “I hope we are of one mind in this,” says Florianne.

      I spin her gently around. Her skin is warm, yet it’s quite a cool night. “In times like these, it’s hard to tell friend from foe. Is it not, Your Grace?”

      We move into a waltz, one hand on her waist, the other clasping her hand. And it’s only then that I notice my group from the Inquisition watching me. Varric’s grinning at me, while Cassandra’s watching me in horror. She knows what I say to the Duchess could make or break the Inquisition. I’ve got to be careful. I would much rather be dancing with Cullen right now, though I know he would never want to in front of all these people.

      “I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And have been everywhere in the Palace…”

      I nearly let go of her hand.

      “You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor… and a matter of concern to some.”

      I smile, “Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, Your Grace?”

      “A little of both, actually,” she says. “This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?”

      I nod, hoping to get an answer from her, “An excellent question. I might ask the same of you, You Grace.”

      Spinning her around, the guests watch in glee. I seem to be the first to dance with the Duchess tonight. I don’t blame them, she kind of scares me.  

      The Duchess’ eyes flick to me, “In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone. It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.”

       “I thought ‘dangerous machinations’ were the national sport in Orlais.”

      For the final move, I bring the Duchess into a low dip. The crowd’s cheers fill the dance floor and the Duchess gives a sly smile.

      “You have little time,” says the Duchess as we begin our walk off the dance floor, clearing it for the next dance. “The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing garden, you will find the captain of my brother’s mercenaries. He knows all Gaspard’s secrets.”

      We stop at the end of the dance floor and bow to each other in formality.

      But she continues talking, “I’m sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming.”

      Turning on my heel, I just give her a sweet smile, “We’ll see what the night has in store, won’t we?” And I don’t even use Your Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, Cassandra and Varric would be great dance partners. But, we continue on with the ball, as annoying as this quest was... Stay groovy children.


	59. Chapter 58

 

“You’ll be the talk of the court for months,” says Josephine as she walks up to me. “We should take you dancing more often.”

      I laugh, “Well, it’s certainly a relief to do something other than fight demons and horrors.”

      “You still face demons and horrors. These ones are simply better dressed.”

      “Were you _dancing_ with Duchess Florianne?” asks Leliana, walking towards us, Cullen trailing behind her.

      “More importantly,” adds Cullen, “What happened in the servants’ quarter? I heard there was fighting.”

      “Varric saved Cassandra’s life and it was very romantic.”

      The three stare at me and I blink back at them, “It was. I promise you.”  
      Josephine clears her throat, “That does sound truly romantic. Did they kiss?”

      “Josephine,” nudges Leliana.

      “Right,” straightens Josephine, “I hope you have good news from all this fighting.”

      “Yes, Varric and Cassandra are so going to get together.”

      Leliana tries to hide her smirk, “Tell us something we don’t know.”

      Josephine nods, “I hear the peace talks are crumbling.”

      I hesitate, trying to figure out the thoughts in my head—and trying to stop thinking about how cute Cassandra and Varric are.

      Briala’s people were murdered in the servants’ quarters by Tevinter agents and says that Gaspard is up to something. The Empress’ own speakers, the three women wearing the masks from the House of Valmont, also say that Gaspard is also planning something tonight. And even now, Florianne had told me of some sort of proof that Gaspard is planning something with Tevinter. The dagger we found buried into a noble’s back also gives a suspicion.

      But something at the back of my mind nags at me. It’s all too obvious. This is the Game, not Everyone Has The Same Opinion That Gaspard Is Going To Attack. It’s just too easy.

      But I sigh, Gaspard is the only lead we’ve got, “The Grand Duchess told me there’s proof Gaspard is in league with Tevinter.”

      “She offered up her own brother?” asks Leliana. “She’s more cutthroat than I realized.”

      I swallow, Leliana does have a point.

      “Then… the attack on the Empress will happen tonight,” says Cullen.                      

      “Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed and to flee would admit defeat,” says Josephine.

      “Then perhaps we should let her die,” says Leliana.

      My throat closes in anger, “I won’t stand by and _let_ her die.”

      “Listen to me carefully, Inquisitor,” says Leliana, voice calm. “What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plan, the Empire must remain strong. This evening, _someone_ must emerge victorious.”

      “And it doesn’t need to be Celene. She’s right,” says Cullen.

      I can’t believe they’re both agreeing with killing the Empress.

      “Do you realise what you’re suggesting, Leliana?” asks Josephine.

      “Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one.”

      I clench my jaw, Josephine and I sharing a look.

      Each couple divided. Josephine and I against Cullen and Leliana. Oh the joys.

      I shake my head, “When Celene died, that’s when everything went to shit. That dark future I saw still could happen. I won’t… I won’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen. I can’t decide this. Not yet.”

      “You must,” urges Leliana. “Even inaction is a decision, Inquisitor.”

      “You could speak to Celene in the ballroom, but she won’t act. Not without proof,” says Josephine.

      “If Gaspard is guilty, he’ll admit nothing. If he’s innocent, he knows nothing. We need the truth,” says Cullen.

      “What did Duchess Florianne tell you?” asks Leliana.

      My jaw is still clenched and I’m sick of this conversation already. Yes, I adore Cullen and I trust Leliana, yet their views are _wrong_. Celene shouldn’t die. I can’t allow them to go through that future I saw.

      Looking at Leliana, I keep my voice firm, “She said Gaspard’s mercenary captain is in the Royal Wing. That he knows about the assassination.”

      “Which could be a trap,” says Cullen.

      “Oh a lead,” says Josephine, trying to calm the conversation. “Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues.”

      “Then get me access,” I say. “And in the meantime, get your soldiers into position.”

      Cullen’s taken aback by the anger in my voice. He nods, “At once… be careful, Lydia.”

      “I’ll be over at the banquet table then, eating all of the cake,” I say. Turning on my heel, I storm away. Cassandra waits for me at the doors and I wave her to follow me. Varric, Dorian and Harding soon follow.

      “Lydia, you’re angry,” says Cassandra. “What did they say?”

      I don’t answer, instead I stand at the banquet table, pour myself a large tankard of orange punch and drink it all in one gulp.

      The four of them stare at me like I’ve gone mad.

      “Just a few misunderstandings,” I growl. “Cullen and Leliana believe it to be best if Celene was murdered. I don’t agree.” My fingers wrap tighter around the tankard and sigh, “I just don’t know. All of Orlais—all of Thedas is depending on me the make the right decision and… and I don’t know if I can.”

      Cassandra gently takes the tankard from my hand and places it on the table, her hand coming to my shoulder, “If anyone can make the right decision, it’s you Lydia. We didn’t choose you as Inquisitor for no reason. You have a big heart—you care what happens. That is better than any of these leaders tonight. Whoever you pick will respect you, they owe their position to you.”

      I rest my forehead on her shoulder, “I just want to go home. I’m not fit enough for this political shit.”

      She gives me a small laugh, “And you think I’m any better?”

      “You at least didn’t have to dance with the Duchess,” I say, straightening. “I had no clue how the lead, I usually follow.”

      She just smiles, “I’m sure you are a better dancer than me.”

      My eyes flick to Varric then back to her, “Well, I guess we’d just have to see. Remember what Dorian said? Height difference.”

      Varric clears his throat, “We… have certain people to find, do we not? That assassin isn’t going to wait for us while we dance.” He smiles at me, “And don’t worry Stumbles, we’ll all get behind your decision, no matter what.”

      I give a weak laugh, “Thanks Varric.”

      We all take a seat at the table, to get away from all of the politics and the Game. I just want to share a piece of cake with my friends.

      Harding grins at me as I toast to the others with my chocolate cake, “To us. The only people who give a shit about the Empire.”

      Varric holds up his piece of cake, “To us, Stumbles.”

      “And to you, Lydia, the only one who had the balls to dance with the Duchess,” says Dorian, taking a bite of his cake.

       

     

+++

 

After our little midnight snack at the banquet table, I lead the others to the ballroom again.

      There’s a few people I wish to speak to.

      We walk up to the Empress’ speakers, the three weird women I had met in the gardens.

      “Is there something we may do for you?” asks the lady on the end.

      “We do so enjoy speaking with you,” says the second.

      “We will speak to the Empress on your behalf,” says the third.

      I can tell Dorian is having a hard time keeping up with who’s speaking, he’s eyes keep flicking back and forth between the three.

      I pull the elven locket from my pocket, “I made a fascinating discovery: an elven locket in the Empress’ vault.”

      “Oh dear,” says the first woman.

      The second woman nods, “That is very interesting… I’ll get Her Majesty.”

      Soon, I’m standing in front of the Empress. She smiles at me, “Inquisitor. I regret that we did not have time to speak earlier. No doubt you have questions about many things.”

      “I… found a locket,” I say, pulling the piece of jewelry from my pocket. “It was a gift from Briala, wasn’t it?”

      The Empress doesn’t look phased when she glances at the necklace, “She gave it to me for my coronation.” Her eyes turn sad, “I don’t know why I kept it. It was a foolish thing to do.”

      “If I may ask, Your Majesty, what made the two of you part ways?”

      “She wanted change. And she thought I should deliver it. My word is law, Inquisitor, but laws don’t command people’s hearts. Culture does not transform itself overnight.” She looks away from me, “I failed her. I should have dared more. But the past, like so many things, is beyond my command.”

      She truly looks sad. She misses Briala.

      “Maybe you kept it because you still care for Briala,” I say.

      “Perhaps I do. But I cannot put her above all the people of my Empire. Dispose of the locket however you like. It means nothing to me.” She turns and walks gracefully away.

      I nod, looking down at the locket, “It’s too beautiful to dispose of.”

      Dorian takes it from my hand, “Perhaps we should speak the Briala about it.”

      And we do. She stands alone on one of the balconies around the top floor.

      Walking towards her, she turns, “We meet again. Given any thought to what I said?”

      I scratch the back of my head, “Well…”

      Dorian steps forward, “We are still thinking about it.” He holds up the locket, “We found this hidden among Celene’s things. It isn’t yours, is it?”

      “Let me see that,” she snaps. Dorian hands her the locket, her eyes examining it in what looks like longing. “She kept this? What was she thinking? If Gaspard had found this, it would have ruined her.”

      “It… might have meant something to her,” I suggest.

      “Maybe,” says Briala. “She held on to it…”

      “You can keep it,” I say. “It’s not ours to steal.” I begin ushering everyone back towards the ballroom, “Enjoy the rest of the night, Briala.”

      She either doesn’t hear me, or ignores me. But her eyes are staring at the locket. 

 

+++

     

We stand in the private quarters, ready to face whatever else this cursed Palace is hiding. One of Harding’s scouts managed to hide the barrel with our armour in it just outside the wing’s door.

      I had explained to them what exactly Florianne said during our dance—and my conversation with my advisors after it.

      As we head up the stairs, I try not to think how hurt Cullen looked when I snapped at him, but… letting the Empress die is certainly something I can’t let happen. I’ll… I’ll need to apologise to him later.

      Varric glances around the level we walk along, “Are we going to sneak around to look through the Empress’ unmentionables now? Just how drunk are you, Stumbles?”

      I shoot him a look, “I’ve only had orange punch.”

      “They always spike the punch back home,” says Dorian.

      A scream pierces the air and we spin towards the door it came from. Rushing to it, I rip the door open to find another harlequin, daggers drawn, body covered in white leather armour. A serving girl is on the ground, trying to scuttle away from the killer.

      The open window…

      I sprint towards the harlequin who spins at my footsteps. But I’m on her before she can react. My boot connects with her stomach and she tumbles through the open window and down towards her death.

      The elven girl looks at me, eyes wide in fear, “Thank you.”

      I crouch down beside her while Cassandra peeks out the window to make sure the harlequin didn’t survive.

      “Are you alright?” I ask.

      “I’m… I don’t think I’m hurt,” she says, voice shaking. She slowly gets to her feet and I follow. “No one’s supposed to be here… Briala said… I shouldn’t have trusted her.”

      “Briala told you to come to this wing of the Palace?” I ask. The others stand around me, hoping to hear the story.

      “Not personally. The ‘ambassador’ can’t be seen talking to the servants,” explains the girl. “We get coded messages at certain locations. But the order came from her. She’s been watching the Grand Duke all night. No surprise she wanted someone to search his sister’s room.”

      I blink, “So this room belongs to Grand Duchess Florianne?”

      “It used to. This had been her private room in Halamshiral, since she was a child. But this part of the Palace was damaged, and the Royal Wing moved to the Guest Wing.”

      “What exactly were you trying to find in Florianne’s old room?”

      “The message didn’t say. I should have known it was a set up.”

      Nodding, I quickly glance around the room, “Well, you were brave for coming here. But if there’s a reason you distrust Briala, I’d like to hear it.”

      “I knew her. Before. When she was Celene’s pet. Now she wants to play revolution. But I remember. She was sleeping with the Empress who purged our alienage.”

      I swallow, “Would you be willing to testify to that, if I asked?”

      “Absolutely. If… if the Inquisition will protect me. I’ll tell you everything I know about our ‘ambassador’.”

      “Most Orlesians would say that’s Celene’s scandal, not Briala’s,” says Dorian.

      “Go to the ballroom,” I say. “Find Commander Cullen. He’ll keep you safe.”

      “Thank you,” breathes the elf. “Maker protect you, Inquisitor.”

      I smile at her, “And you.”

      She scurries of towards Cullen. He’ll know what to do with her.

      Returning to the large hall, we come to the door I’m guessing leads to Celene’s bedroom. Dorian pulls the remaining Halla statues from his pack and places them on the shelves. It seems only rooms of importance have these magical locks.  

      The door lights up and creaks open.

      I push the door open and allow Cassandra to enter first.

      The room is large, with book shelves along the walls and a desk in the center of the polished floor. A small set of marble stairs lead up to the Empress’ bed and changing area. A painting of someone, her mother perhaps, hangs from the wall beside us.

      A statue of the Andraste stands on the left side of the room and I smile at it. The sculpting is quite beautiful.

      Cassandra moves up the stairs, Varric behind her.

      I give Harding and nod and we follow behind the two.

      Varric and Cassandra reach the top of the stairs, glancing around for any clues. Cassandra takes one look at the bed and lets out a yelp, shielding her eyes while grabbing Varric’s arm.

      Dorian, Harding and I rush up to them, but when I see him, I scream and grab Cassandra’s arm.

      Dorian just lets out a small chuckle.

      Wrists and ankles tied to each post of the bed is a man, struggling in his bonds. His steel helmet sits on his head, but the rest of him is _naked_. I’ve seen too much, Maker, I’ll never get the image out of my head.

      “What… happened?” I manage to ask.

      The man blushes, chest heaving up and down in distress, “It’s not what it looks like! Honestly I would have preferred if it were what it looks like.”

      “Oh?” asks Varric.

      “The Empress led me to believe I would be… rewarded for betraying the Grand Duke. This… was not what I hoped for.”

      “Well, she could be waiting for the party to be over,” I suggest. Glancing at the others, Cassandra’s adamant oat keeping her eyes from his body, with her arms crossed, watching the wall. Though I see her eyes float back to the man, just to get a glimpse. Varric is grinning like an idiot, along with Dorian. And Harding is blushing, yet a hand covers her mouth as she tries not to laugh. She fails miserably, shoulders shaking. Watching her makes me clench my jaw. She’s going to make me laugh too.

      I clear my throat, eyes flicking back to the man again, “You’re telling me that Empress Celene left you naked and trussed like a roast duck?”

      Harding lets out a snort, bending over to try and cover her laughter. Dorian pats her on the back.

      “Please, I beg you, don’t tell Gaspard!” pleads the man. “The Empress beguiled me! Into giving her information about… plans for troop movements in the Palace tonight. She knows everything! Everything! The Duke’s surprise attack has been countered before it even began. She’s turned it into a trap. The moment he strikes, she’ll have him arrested for treason.” He struggles in his chains.

      “I don’t know which is worst,” says Cassandra, finally looking at the man, “Celene for using such a tactic or him for falling for it.”

      Dorian laughs, “Oh, Orlesians.”

      I swallow, “I’ll protect you from Gaspard if you’re willing to testify about Celene’s trap.”

      “I’ll do anything! Anything!”

      We all glance at each other and I nod, “Release him.”

      “What, with you watching?” asks Varric.

      “I’ve already seen all of him,” I mutter.

      But I nod at Harding and Cassandra and they follow me down the stairs. I can hear Varric and Dorian trying to talk to the man, but he’s too distressed.

      I push the door open and we stop a few metres from the door, making sure we aren’t facing it. 

      Harding bursts out into laughter and Cassandra and I soon follow. I clutch Cassandra’s arm, trying to suppress my laughter, but it’s just too funny.

      After everything we’ve been through tonight, this certainly lightened it up a little. I was not expecting something as trivial as that to happen at a ball. Oh Maker, what else is in store for us tonight? There’s nothing like a good scandal.

      We stop our laughter when the man walks from the room, a tunic and lose fitting pants covering his body. Not that there’s any point, I’ve seen it all.

      He nods at us in thanks and walks off towards Cullen, who will hopefully help him. Varric and Dorian walk from the room, smirks on their faces.

      “You certainly don’t see that every day,” says Varric.

      “That was the highlight of the night, by far,” grins Dorian.

      “I’m going to steal that idea. I should put that in one of my books.”

      Cassandra gasps, “Not _Swords & Shields_! That would be humiliating for the Knight-Captain’s lover. If you dare put that in, I’ll…”

      “Don’t worry Seeker, I would never let that happen to her lover,” says Varric.

      Cassandra breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

      “I think I read something like that in _The Beauty and the Beast_ ,” says Dorian.

      Cassandra’s eyes flash, “That was a spoiler.”

      Dorian holds up his hands, “Sorry, I thought you’d finished it.”

      “No, I’ve got fifty pages left.”

      I smirk, “She’s taking her time, reading all the smutty parts. She writes notes.”

      Cassandra shoves my arm and pushes me towards the hallway, “Just keep walking Lydia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, I remember coming across this scene, such a beautiful moment ;) It took me a few playthroughs to actually get all of the Halla statues to reach that room, but I finally got there!! As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	60. Chapter 59

We move through the private quarters, picking up any clues we can find. Which isn’t much. The hallways are small and bare, unlike the royal bedrooms and the Vestibule. This must be where the servants walk—of course it wouldn’t be as nice. Stupid nobles.

      But we reach a large messy hall, with wooden scaffolding pushed up against the walls, torn carpets and I even notice the ceiling is only half painted.

      “What happened here?” asks Varric.

      “It is as messy as your chambers, I suspect,” says Cassandra.

      I glance at her, “You’ve been in his chambers before, have you?”

      Cassandra shoots me a scowl, “I have not, no.”

      “Has he been in yours?”

      Varric stares at me, “Why would I?”

      Dorian snorts and I cough out a laugh, “Just asking.”

      “You fainted Orlesian assholes!” comes a voice. “When I get out of this, I’ll butcher you like the pigs you are.” The voice comes from behind a door.

      I glance at the others before pushing the blue door open and running out into a garden.

      Archers stand in front of us, bows aimed and ready to fire.

      Shit. It was a trap.

      A Rift hovers, dormant behind the archers, and the only way to make sure it stays closed is to open it and reclose it.

      Oh the joys.

      But I see a man tied to a pole, yelling all sorts of profanities at the archers.

      “Inquisitor,” comes a voice. I look up to see the Duchess watching me from the balcony, “What a pleasure! I wasn’t certain you’d attend.”

      I clench my fists, it _was_ a trap. Cullen was right.

      My mark lights up as the Rift sparks, green light fizzing through the air.

      The Duchess just smiles, “You’re such a challenge to read. I had no idea if you’d taken my bait.”

      “I fear I’m a bit busy at the moment, if you were looking for a dance partner,” I snap.

      The Duchess is taken aback at my comment, but straightens, “Yes, I see that. Such a pity you did not save one final dance for me. It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly. I was so tired of you meddling. Corypheus insisted that the Empress die tonight and I would hate to disappoint him.”

      “Why kill the Empress? What does Corypheus want to achieve?”

      “Celene’s death is a stepping stone on the path to a better world. Corypheus will enter the Black City and claim the godhood waiting for him. We will cast down your useless Maker and usher in a united world, guided by the hand of the attentive god.”

      “What exactly is in this for you?”  
      The Duchess laughs, “The world of course! I’ll deliver the entire south of Thedas and Corypheus will save me. When he was ascended to godhood, I will rule all Thedas in his name.”

      “You don’t have to go through with this, Florianne. There’s still time to turn back,” I plead.

      “Oh, my dear Inquisitor. You are so naïve. In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself.”

      I cough. She’s the killer we’ve been looking for this whole night.

      The Duchess just smiles, “All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. A pity you’ll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor. They’ll be talking of it for years.”

      I scream at her.

      “Kill her,” she orders, walking away from us. Her shoes echo on the marble floor of the balcony. “And bring me her marked hand. It will make a fine gift for the master.”

      Out of the corner of my eye, Cassandra pulls the others to the side as the archers fire their arrows. Without thinking, I dive to the ground, arrows hissing past me. I roll and come back to stand on my feet. I don’t know how I managed to do that without failing epically.

       I lift a hand to the Rift and the mark sparks, pulling the portal open.

      Demons spew from the Rift, but I push my team back and the demons go for the archers instead. The Venatori try fighting back and I see an arrow fly into a demons’ eye, killing it instantly.

      Harding, Dorian and Varric begin picking of the shades that flit around the edges of the gardens. Cassandra and I nod to each other and we plough into the fight.

      I twist as the first demon rushes towards me, dagger cutting along its thick skin. The archers are scattered, too occupied to try and attack us.

      It was a risk opening that Rift, but I knew the demons would go for the closest people—being the archers.

      I drive my dagger into a demon’s head and it dissipates into goo. Cassandra spins, shield up and I duck behind it as a ball of energy hits the metal. Cassandra doesn’t even jolt from the impact.

      We continue fighting through demon and Venatori alike, the only thing on my mind is getting to Celene before Florianne has a chance to kill her.

      I should have known it was Florianne all along. Of course she’d try to pin the blame on someone else, to keep my from suspecting her. But now that I think about it, she was very surprised to see us at the ball. She knew we could foil her plans.

      My anger drives me harder and I cut my way through everything that moves. My blades slice through a Venatori archer, who was struggling with a demon.

      Cassandra finishes of the demon and I nod in thanks.

      Varric’s bolt pierces the rage demon, but it just cries out in pain, sliding over to the three. Harding fires an arrow and it flies right through its body. But it continues towards them. Dorian covers it in ice, yet the bloody thing keeps going. It’s molten skin pulsing in its anger.

      It swipes at the three and they duck, splitting.

      Cassandra and I rush towards it, driving our blades into its back at the same time. It roars in pain and finally dies.

      We breathe heavily and I pat Cassandra on the back, “See, I told you. Back to normal.”

      She looks at me, “My wound still hurts a little. But yes, back to normal.”

      I grin and lift my hand to the Rift. The green portal shifts under the power of the mark and closes.

      “The demons are becoming stronger,” says Dorian. “Perhaps because Corypheus is growing too.”

      Nodding, I sheath my weapons, “I guess we’ve just got to stop him.”

      Varric steps forward, “I don’t want to stop this lovely conversation, but there’s a man tied to a pole over there.”

      We walk over to the man, who’s watching us in anger. I would be angry too if I was left tied to a pole in the gardens while a Rift spewed demons from its maw.

      Harding unties him gingerly, not wanting to be the victim of the man’s rage.

      “Andraste’s tits!” yells the man once his bindings are untied. “What was all that?” He gets to his feet, “Were those demons? There aren’t any more blasted demons, coming, right?”

      “Good eye,” I say. “Those were definitely demons.”

      “Maker bless me! Demons? How could there be demons in the fucking Winter Palace? I knew Gaspard was a bastard, but I didn’t think he’d feed me to fucking horrors over a damned bill.”

      “Duke Gaspard lured you out here?” I ask.

      “Well, his sister. But it had to come from him, didn’t it?”

      I bite my lip. Could it? Florianne might be working alone.

      “All that garbage she was spewing doesn’t mean anything. Gaspard had to be the mastermind.”

      “Your accent sounds Fereldan. I thought you were one of Gaspard’s mercenaries.”

      “Born and raised in Denerim. Seems like I should have stayed there. The Duke wanted to move on the Palace tonight. But he didn’t have enough fancy chevaliers. So he hired me and my men. He had to offer us triple our usual pay to come to Orlais. Stinking poncy cheesemongers.”

      My eyes widen, “He’s going to attack tonight? What about the peace talks?”

      So they’re both guilty. Perhaps for different things.

      “Nobles don’t give a shit about honour and conduct unless it suits them. He’ll do what it takes to claim the throne.”

      “Impressively ruthless of Gaspard, if predictable,” says Cassandra.

      I eye the man, “Want a new job? One that pays better? The Inquisition can always use a good mercenary company.”

      “You hiring? I’m game. Anything’s better than this bullshit. You want me to talk to the Empress, or the court, or sing a blasted song in the Chantry, I’ll do it.” He nods and heads back through the door we came from.

      I glance at the others, “Come on, we’ve got to get to the Empress.”

      We rush through the hallways not bothering to look regel. This night has gone to shit. And we need to reach Celene before the killer strikes.

      We managed to find a back way through the private wing, where we are left alone.

      My boot slips on the polished floor as we round a corner and Cassandra catches me before I fall face first into the marble.

      We get to a room, polished and cleaned and I rip the door open. We find ourselves back in the ballroom. But the guests don’t even notice our entrance. I usher everyone into the ballroom and we casually stand against the wall. It’s only then I remember we’re still in our armour. And we’re covered in blood.

      I curse, but we don’t have time to change.

      Duchess Florianne and the Duke walk together on the far side of the room. They don’t notice us, which is good.

      Cullen rushes up to us and he breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank the Maker you’re back! The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?” He glances at the blood covering my arm.

      I swallow, my brain overflowing in the stupidity of what I’m about to do, “Wait here, Cullen. I’m going to have a word with the Grand Duchess.”

      “What? There’s no time! The Empress will begin her speech any moment.”

      “Just trust me, Cullen,” I say.

      He sighs, “Go. Be careful.”

      I nod and head to the dance floor. Briala, Gaspard and Florianne stand on top of the stairs, chatting quietly to each other.

      The others wait nervously from the top floor, watching me.

      “We owe the court one more show, Your Grace,” I yell from the bottom of the stairs.

      The crowd seem to gasp in unison and I can feel every pair of eyes on me.

      Florianne stiffens, but turns around to look at me.

      Briala and Gaspard both back away from the Duchess.

      “Inquisitor,” she says coldly.

      “The eyes of every noble in the Empire are upon us, Your Grace. Remember to smile,” my voice is a little shaky, but I urge myself to sound confident. I move up the stairs to meet her, “This is your party. You wouldn’t want them to think you had lost control.” I can feel the confidence seeping through my veins and I smile.

      The Duchess backs away from me, but still smiles, “Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor.”

      “I seem to recall you saying, ‘All I needed was to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike’.”

      Florianne’s eyes flick around the room but she keeps her face straight.

      I continue, “When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn’t save me the last dance.” More gasps come from the crowd and even Celene, standing above us jerks back in surprise.

      I move around the Duchess, like a predator circling its prey, “It’s so easy to lose you good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of a council emissary.”

      Since the Duchess left me to die at the hands of her archers, I had been piecing together the clues. She stole Gaspard’s dagger and killed the emissary herself.

      “It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds… all your enemies under one roof.”

      It’s why she had made the party in the first place. To kill everyone in one night.

      The Duchess glares at me, “This is very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?”

      “That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin,” comes Celene’s voice.

      The Duchess turns to her brother, “Gaspard? You cannot believe this! You know I would never…”

      The Duke and Briala just walk away from her, their guards coming to stand by them. 

      “Gaspard?” yells Florianne, desperation in her voice. The guards move in on her and she looks around for any way to escape.

      “You lost this fight ages ago, Your Grace. You’re just the last to find out,” I yell.

      The Duchess sinks to her knees as the guards come to take her away. She begins sobbing, a terrible moaning as she’s grabbed by the arms and hauled away.

      I turn to the Empress, “Your Imperial Majesty, I think we should speak in private. Elsewhere.”

 

+++

 

“Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard,” snaps Briala as we walk out to one of the balconies. The Empress follows behind Gaspard and Briala, looking quite shocked from the whole thing.

      “You’re the spymaster. If anyone knew this atrocity was coming, it was you,” counters Gaspard.

      “You don’t deny your involvement,” she says.

      “I do deny it! I knew nothing of Florianne’s plans! But you… you knew it all and did nothing.”

      “I don’t know which is better: that you think I’m all-seeing or that you’re trying so hard to play innocent and failing.”

      “Enough,” snaps the Empress. “We will not bicker while Tevinter plots against out nations! For the safety of the Empire, I will have answers.”

      Gaspard is guilty, for his own reasons. He had planned to attack anyway, without knowing of his sister’s plans. But Briala had lured that elf girl into a trap… and Celene chained that man to the bed. I quickly try to figure out who I should side with.

      Should I side with anyone?

      I swallow, my plan piecing itself together, “I wouldn’t have caught Florianne in time without Briala’s help.”

      “You were working together?” asks the Empress.

      “Of course,” says Briala. She’s going along with it.

      “Thanks to Briala, Gaspard’s mercenary captain will testify that he hired men to infiltrate the Palace.”

      “Hired thugs?” asks the Empress. “I didn’t expect you to stoop so low, cousin.”

      “Don’t be naïve, Celene. The only difference between a mercenary and a common solider is a uniform.

      “Keep talking, Gaspard. Eventually you’ll convince somebody.”

      I know I can bring Celene and Briala back together. It would be for the best, “He also ordered his General to sneak troops into the Winter Palace,” I say, remembering the note I had found on his desk. “Briala found all of this out for your sake, Celene.”

      So perhaps I’m making a few things up, but I just need the two to trust each other.

      The Empress glares at Gaspard, “In light of overwhelming evidence, we have no choice but to declare you an enemy of the Empire. You are hereby sentenced to death.”

      I nod at the sentence. But I’m still not finished, “I think Ambassador Briala deserves some reward for uncovering all this.”

      Celene looks at Briala, “I can scarcely believe you did all this for me.”

      “Celene…” smiles Briala.

      The Empress’ guards march towards us and Celene holds up a hand to Gaspard. The guards take him away and he doesn’t even say anything. He’s already admitted defeat.

      Celene turns to me, “Thank you, Inquisitor. For all your effects tonight. I owe you my life. And Orlais owes you its future.”

        


“You have done so much,” says the Empress as we walk back inside. “For my people and… for us.” Celene smiles at Briala.

      “We won’t forget this,” agrees the elf. The two lovers share a sweet smile and I blush at the affection.

      I’ve brought them back together. The only good thing that happened tonight.

      “It was my pleasure,” I say. “The two of you deserve to be happy.”

      “We truly are,” smiles Celene. “Come, stand with us, Inquisitor. We must give the good news to the nobility.”

      We stand on the top level, while every guest stands on the dance floor, waiting for our address. I notice Cassandra smiling at me and she winks. She approves of my actions. Another good thing.

      “Lords and Ladies of the court, this is a night for celebration!” says Celene, eyes skimming over the crowd. “Those who sought to poison our Empire with treason have been brought to justice. It is a new age for Orlais. We shall build a world in which all men and women live in harmony. Let the cornerstone of change be laid. I introduce the newest member of our court; Marquise Briala of the Dales.”

      Briala steps forward, smiling down at the people, “This is not just a victory in Halamshiral, or within the Empire, or even for elves alone. This is a triumph for everyone. Over a thousand years ago in the Valarian Fields, elves and humans together defeated the Imperium. We can do so much more now. We are greater than our ancestors ever dreamed. Together, we will start by saving our world from the enemy who took the Divine and tore the sky apart.”

      I nod, “It will take all of us to defeat the enemy threatening our world.”

      “We are already tracking these Tevinter agents. Soon they’ll have no place to hide,” says Briala.

      “But that is tomorrow,” smiles Celene. “Tonight, we celebrate our newfound fellowship. Let the festivities commence!”

      The crowd cheers in agreement, hooting in excitement.

     

 

I walk out onto the balcony, hoping to grab some fresh air. The Inquisition plans to leave soon, to allow Briala and Celene to run the Empire. And to have a little time to themselves.

      I lean against the balcony and run a hand through my hair.

      “The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory and yet you are not present to hear them.”

      I turn to see Morrigan walking slowly towards me.

      “Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? ‘Tis most fickle, after all, your efforts on their behalf.”

      I smile at her, “It’s good to see you again.” I glance back at the doors, “I… would have stayed, but the punch ran dry. Scandalous if you ask me.”

      Morrigan laughs, “Indeed. Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly. By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid—including mine. Congratulations.”

       I smile, “Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan.”

      “A most gracious response,” she gives me a smile. “I shall see you at Skyhold.”

      She leaves, heading back to the celebrations and I stand outside by myself. I sigh, looking at the gardens below me.

      “There you are,” comes a voice. I don’t turn around. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”

      I just lean against the railing, elbows braced against it.

      “Things have calmed down for the moment,” says Cullen. He comes to stand beside me, leaning against the railing. He smiles at me, “Are you alright?”

      I sigh, nodding, “I’m just worn out. The night has been… very long.”

      “For all of us, I’m glad it’s over.”

      I stare at the railing.

      “I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight,” says Cullen, a hand coming to my shoulder. I place my own hand on top of his. A few cheers come from the ballroom, but Cullen just smiles at me, “I may never have another chance like this…” he straightens, his hand sliding from my shoulder. I straighten, unsure as to what he’s about to do. “So I must ask. May I have this dance?”

      I can’t help but smile at him. His hand is out, ready for me to take it… and that look he’s giving me...

      “Of course,” I say, hand sliding into his. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

      “For you, I’ll try.” His hand comes to my waist, pulling me closer and I rest my forehead against his shoulder.

      It’s a slow dance, but I don’t mind. He could put me to sleep like this. We move slowly around the balcony for what seems like years. Just his breath against my cheek and his strong arms around me.

      But there’s something I must say to him.

      “Cullen?”

      “Yes, Lydia?”

      “I’m sorry for the way I acted back there. I was… wrong to get angry at you.”

      “No, I shouldn’t have even thought about killing the Empress. It would have been chaos if we had let her.”                                                                                                     

      “You’re allowed to have opinions too,” I say. “I was just too selfish.”

      He kisses me, long and gentle, “Let’s not worry about the past. We’ve got the future to look forward to.” He smirks, “And talking of the future, I believe Varric is planning on asking Cassandra for a dance.”

      I stop, “Really?”

      “I only heard from Dorian.” He smiles at me, “Go. Go support your friend.”

      “Which one? Cassandra won’t be the one on the floor with a bruise on her face.”

      Cullen and I rush back into the ballroom and I head down the stairs to the dance floor. Many of the guests have taken to dancing by now. Harding and Dorian dance, giggling to each other as they make fun of everyone around them. Leliana and Josephine talk to each other, though I do notice Leliana kiss Josephine’s cheek in celebration. It’s almost too cute for my heart to handle.

      But Cassandra and Varric are nowhere to be seen. I glance at Cullen, “They’re probably making out in a closet somewhere.”

      He laughs.

      It’s only then that a gap in the crowd allows me to see them, walking hand in hand as they join the dance. Cassandra looks slightly furious, yet when she looks at Varric her face softens. His wraps a hand around her waist, the other clasping her hand.

      Cullen’s own hand wraps around me and I rest my head on his shoulder, watching the two.

      Some guests smile at them and Cassandra blushes.

      But as the next music piece begins, Varric leads Cassandra around the floor. She doesn’t know the dance, but her years of fighting has given her a graceful step. Varric just smiles at her, leading her where to go. I could watch them all night, gazing into each other’s eyes.

      I’m happy for them. Everyone seems to have found someone in the Inquisition.

      I kiss Cullen’s cheek and after a few more dances, we leave for Skyhold.

 

+++

 

After everything we’ve been through tonight, the clock still hasn’t chimed two by the time we make it back to Skyhold.

      The carriage ride back seemed to only take a few seconds, because next thing I know, we’re back in Skyhold.

      I glance around the courtyard and nearly piss myself when I see everyone watching me. It’s an open carriage, so the people of Skyhold can see the beautiful Inquisitor as I ride by.

      I had slept the whole ride back, by the looks of it. And woken to see a crowd of people smiling at me.

      Maker, what have I done now.

      I try to shift, but that’s when I feel something heavy leaning against me. Cassandra, head resting on my shoulder is fast asleep, fingers wrapped around my hand. On the other side of me is Harding, head resting on my other shoulder. Her hair is a mess, mouth open as she sleeps, but she still manages to look adorable. And Josephine is curled up next to Harding, a blanket over her. Her head rests in Harding’s lap, arms wrapped around the dwarf’s legs.

      I can’t help but smile. All the dancing must have worn us out—we slept for the whole ride.

      Bull rushes towards us and blows a horn.

      Cassandra shoots up, hand still in mine, but with a sword in her other hand. I don’t know how she managed to get it—it was resting at her feet the whole time. Harding, on the other hand jerks awake, a scream escaping her lips as she clings to me. And Josephine snorts from her sleep, head slipping from Harding’s lap.

      Bull grins at us and the crowd bursts into laughter.

      I look at my friends and can’t help but laugh as well. We probably look as feral as one another.

      “I promised a celebration,” says Bull. “So let’s have one!”

      “Our little nap will keep us going through the rest of the night,” I say.

      Harding holds up a hand, “Chocolate cake!”

      “Someone better have some caramel cake,” seconds Cassandra.

      And so the celebrations continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!! The mission is done, thank the ever loving Maker. But yes, I thought I’d add a little Cassandra and Varric for us shameless shippers out there.


	61. Chapter 60

I jerk awake at the sound of steel on steel. A tankard falls, splashing warm drink onto the grass. I look around and realise I’m in the courtyard, sitting in a wooden chair.

      “Maker? What the hell?”

      Why am I not in my own bed, sleeping next to Cullen? And Maker, it’s cold out here.

      “Ah, boss. You’re awake,” comes a voice.

      Beside me, Bull sits in a chair, grinning at me, “You missed it.”

      I rub my head, trying to stop the pounding in my head. What had happened when we got back from the ball? “What… missed what exactly?”

      “The sunrise.” Like that explains everything. Bull just grins, “You thought it would be a good idea to sit out here for the rest of the night to watch the sunrise.”

      I blink, “What time was that?”

      “About four in the morning,” laughs Bull.

      It’s well past sunrise, perhaps nine in the morning now. Soldiers train in the fighting circle I had made for Cullen to train his troops in. Most of Skyhold is awake.   
      I swallow, “Well, the sunrise certainly would have been pretty.”

      Bull nods, “It was. Though kind of boring.”

      “How much…” I swallow, trying to get rid of my annoyingly dry throat, “How much did I have to drink last night?”

      “Only five tankards.”

      I cough, “Only? That’s quite a lot for someone like me. Just because you can hold your liquor.”

      Bull huffs, “One up on you humans.”

      “Yeah, lucky.”

      He just grins.

      “Why are you out here?”

      “To keep you company, boss. I couldn’t let you sit out here by yourself. You’d get lonely. Plus, I needed an excuse to have another drink.”

      I smile, “Thanks Bull, that’s very kind of you.”

      “Ah, just doing my job.” He hands me a full tankard, “Here, this’ll clear your head.”

      Looking at the beer inside the cup, I smile, “Nothing like a beer for breakfast.”

      “You deserve it boss, after last night. Dorian had filled us in.”

      I groan, “Possibly the worst night of my life.”

      “Apart from the naked man tied to a bed.”

      “I will never get that image out of my head. It’s burnt into the back of my mind.”

      We sit in silence for a little while as I sip my beer. My headache seems to ease off a little and I even see Cassandra training with those practice dummies yet again. I’d be surprised if she didn’t marry one.

      Krem walks from the keep and he can’t seem to keep the smile from his face. He stares off into nothing, hands clasped together as he walks.

      Bull notices him too and sits forward in his chair. He gives me a quick glance before cocking his head, “Krem de la Crème?”

      Krem jerks at the sound of his name and turns to us, smile evaporating. He walks over to us, yet I can see the blush on his cheeks, “Yes chief?”

      “Where were you last night? You missed the sunrise.”

      “Oh don’t worry, I did too,” I say.

      Krem swallows and gives me a smile before looking back at Bull, “Well… I was in the tavern.”

      Bull raises an eyebrow, “But you just came from the keep.”

      Krem swallows, “I went to the keep after a few drinks.”

      “So what was that look for, just before?”

      “Oh… I just thought of something funny, that’s all, chief. Now, can I go clean my maul, or are you going to hound me to go eat breakfast like my mother?”

      “You’ve bedded someone.”

      I choke on my beer, leaning forward to make sure I don’t die from choking on beer. Though there are worse ways to go. I look at Bull, “You got that from his smile? You’re certainly a mother.”

      Bull smiles at me, “You’re the same boss, every morning after you’ve been with Cullen, you have that look in your eyes.”

      Krem and I share a look.

      I cross my arms, “Oh come on. You look just as dumbfounded when you leave Dorian’s chambers.”

      Bull brushes off my comment and looks at Krem, “Who was she?”

      Krem shuffles his feet, “Ah… I…”

      It’s only then that I see Harding emerge from the keep, a raven perched on her arm. She pats it softly, and ties a note to its foot. She seems to have a way with animals.

      She glances across the clearing and spots us talking to Krem. And her face falls. She quickly releases the raven and turns to make her way back up the stairs.

      But Bull’s spotted her and he knows. He knows everything.

      “Lace Harding?” his voice travels across the courtyard and Harding stiffens, caught in her attempt to escape. She turns back to us and her voice floats across the courtyard, “Yes?”

      “The Inquisitor wants to talk to you,” replies Bull.

      “I do?” I ask him. I actually do though. I need to find out all of the details. If Bull’s right and they really did get together last night, I couldn’t think of anything better. Harding may get under paid for all the shit she has to deal with, so having Krem as her lover is certainly a great change for her.

      Harding slowly walks over to us and I smile at her as she stops beside Krem. He gives her a soft smile. Some of the troops training stop to listen into the conversation and I even see Cassandra smiling as she takes a break from destroying those practice dummies.

      “Lace,” says Bull. “Was he gentle?”

      Harding coughs, “Sir?”

      Bull straightens, visibly enjoying this, “Krem can be rough sometimes, but his heart is in the right place.”

      Krem’s face turns red, “Chief.”

      Harding swallows, “I… I…”

      Bull just looks at Krem, “You treated her well? Made sure she was comfortable?”

      Harding’s hand covers her blushing face.

      Krem clenches his fists, “I was gentle, yes.”

      I grin, “Ah, the height difference. Dorian has a few tips if you want. Remember what he said last night, Harding?”

      If Harding could blush even more, she was doing it right now, “Yes… I remember.”

      I nod, “Good. You won’t be disappointed, I assure you. It’ll come in handy.”

      Bull laughs, “He’s even tried a few on me. And they work: I promise you that.”  
      I let out a laugh.

      Krem clears his throat, “So now you’ve made us admit this in front of everyone, can we go?”

      “Where are you going? Back to bed?” asks Bull. “I’ve got a king sized bed if you want to use that. Might have a lot of rolling around to do. Dorian and I aren’t using it at the moment.”

      Harding’s eyes grow wide, “That’s very kind of you, but we’re perfectly fine.”

      Harding and Krem share a glance at each other.

      I stand from my chair and wrap an arm around Harding, “You can make out with each other after, but you’ve got to tell me all the details.”

      The scout just smiles at me, still blushing, “As long as Varric doesn’t write it in one of his books.”

      “Oh, was it that scandalous?” I ask.

      Harding turns a deeper shade of red, “No… I… that’s not what a meant.”

      I grin and lead her towards the keep for some breakfast, “I’m only messing with you. But, come, you must be hungry from all that work. And… you’ve got to tell me everything.”

      She winks at me, “You may want to take notes.”

      We leave Bull and Krem together, but I hear Krem sigh, “Maker, she’s so cute.”

      Harding hears his comment and glances at me, a blush spreading across her cheeks, “And he’s very good with his hands.”

     

+++

 

Skyhold is back in action after the events of the Winter Palace three days ago, with troop enrollments at an all-time high and even more people coming to make the pilgrimage to Skyhold. The advisors are working overtime to make sure everything’s in order and I’m still stuck closing Rift’s and helping the people of Thedas.

      But is seems as though Orlais approved of my actions at the Winter Palace, which is great. The more allies we have, the better.

      I brush my mare’s coat, trying to keep a clear mind. Today’s mission keeps nagging at the back of my mind. It was by Cassandra’s request that we track down the missing Seekers. All I had remember about the Seeker’s was when we met Lord Seeker Lucius the first time we went to Val Royeaux. But no word had come from them after that.

      Cass had finally tracked the remaining Seeker’s to a fortress in Fereldan: Caer Oswin.

      I’m still shaken from what had happened there. It was tough on Cassandra as well—she hasn’t emerged from her chambers since we got back.

      I hang my head. I should go speak to her, hopefully she’s in need of someone to talk to now. She had to kill her own apprentice, who had a demon trapped inside him. And then she killed Lord Seeker Lucius himself.

      She would be bearing so many burdens right now.

      Walking faster, I clench my fists. Lord Seeker Lucius had tried to destroy the Seeker Order.

      But we stopped him. She had stopped him.

      It’s only when I reach the door to the forges that I see Varric pacing back and forth. He looks troubled, hair messed and eyes wild.

      “Varric?”

      He looks up, startled, “Stumbles. I was…”

      I glance at the forge, “Waiting for Cass?”

      He sighs, “She hasn’t come out.”

      I grip his shoulder, “I’ll go talk to her.”                                                                       

      He smiles at me, “Thanks Stumbles. Just… just make sure she’s alright.”

      “You should give her a kiss.”

      He blinks and looks at the ground, “Yeah…”

      I frown, “What?”

      Varric just waves a hand, “Nothing, Stumbles. I mean, she would probably just punch me again.”

      “I think we both know she’s past that point. She’s do something much better than punch you,” I wink at him.

      But Varric just gives me a small smile, “Please just go check on her.”

      “Fine, I’m on it. Jeez, with you ordering me around like that, people would start to think that you were the Inquisitor.”

      He just waves me towards the doors.

      I make my way up the stairs, glad for the warmth coming from the forges. I try to wave off Varric’s weird behavior. He could have just been worried for the Seeker. But he never lets me have a jab at him without some sort of comeback. Not to mention he knew Cassandra wouldn’t punch him anymore. She’s over that, especially with him.

      If I didn’t know better, he’s worried about something. And Maker, I just hope it’s not Hawke again. I don’t think Cassandra—or Varric—could deal with another fight like that.

      Peeking my head into her room, I see Cassandra sitting at her table, staring at the book Lord Seeker Lucius had given to her, just before we killed him.

      He had said it contained the secrets of the Seekers.

      I walk towards her, taking a seat. But, I don’t say anything. If she wishes to speak, she can, but I won’t force her. She still hasn’t changed from the armour she wore to the fort and her hair is still messed from the fighting.

      Cassandra sighs, “This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the Old Inquisition.” She looks back at the book, “And now it falls to me.”

      “Are you alright, Cass? You looked drained.” I hold out my hand and she takes it. Something I actually wasn’t expecting.

      “Do you know what the Rite of Tranquility is? The last resort used on mages in the Circle, leaving them unable to cast but depriving them of dreams and all emotion.”

      I swallow. I knew what it was. It had threatened my little brother Brandon—and it still does. The Templars could catch him, take him away so he could never use his magic again.

      “It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities… but that has not always been the case.” She still doesn’t let go of my hand.

      “Does… the book say it was used for other things?” I ask.

      “No,” says Cassandra. “As a Seeker, I looked into… abuses. Mages made Tranquil as punishment. What finally began the mage rebellion was a discovery the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed.”

      I blink, but let her continue.

      “The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up—harshly. There were deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of its discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall…” She glances at me, “But it appears we’ve _always_ known how to reverse the Rite. From the beginning.”

       “So… the rebellion could have been prevented.”

      “Perhaps,” she says. “But it was a long time coming, for many reasons.” She squeezes my hand, “We created the Rite of Tranquility. I told you of my vigil—the months emptying myself of all emotion?”

      I nod, remembering back to our conversations in Haven. That had been so long ago. When we weren’t so close.

      “I was made Tranquil and did not even know. Then the vigil summoned a spirt of faith to touch my mind. That broke Tranquility—and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me, not with the Chantry. Not even with…” She stops, like she’s said too much. Standing, her hand slips from mine and she looks out the window. “There’s more. Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I’m not certain it deserves to be rebuilt.”

      “Cass… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so shaken.”

      “I do not think the Seekers have been doing the Maker’s work. Not truly.” She turns to me, “Perhaps we believed it, once. The original Inquisition came to be during a terrible time. But now? We harbored secrets and let them fester. We acted to survive, but not to serve.” She turns back to the window, “That is not the Maker’s work.”

      “If you did rebuild the Seekers, how would you do it?”

      “I can’t be the only one remaining. We were always spread to the winds and some may still be out there. I would find them, one by one. We would all read this book—no more secrets. Then together we would establish a new charter. The Maker’s work, in truth.”

      She seems very passionate about this all. And I’m glad. Cassandra is a woman of strong passion and when she wants something, she’ll do whatever it takes to get.

      “Rebuild the Seekers. Make them better than they were.”

      She looks out the window for a few seconds before turning and walking over to me, “Thank you, Lydia. I could not have done this on my own.”

      I smile, standing from my seat. She needs a hug.

      Wrapping my arms around her, I squeeze her tight. Her own arms seem to hug me back and I bring my lips to her ear, “Varric was worried for you.”

      She pulls back, abashed, “I do not think he would have been _that_ worried.”

      “Well, he’s been standing outside the forge ever since we got back.”

      She stares at me, “Truly?”

      “Yes! Why would I lie?”

      She pulls my arm, leading me towards the balcony door, “Because you seem to be enjoying playing match maker.”

      “I’m just doing my job,” I say with a grin.

      The balcony connects with the parapets and we begin our usual walk along Skyhold, watching the mountains span out around us.

      Cassandra’s blushing and I can tell she’s thinking about Varric.

      I click my tongue, “So, how was his dancing?”

      She gives me a reserved smile, “He was a true gentleman.”

      “You didn’t know the dance.”

      She pulls a face, “It wasn’t _that_ obvious. I was following what Varric was doing.”

      I laugh, “Yes, that’s true. But, when can you ever trust Varric?”

      She just smiles, “My trust with him has grown over the past few months.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she just shoves me away, “Stop looking at me like that.”

      “Sorry, I just can’t get over how cute it is.”

      “Yes, well…” she just smiles at me. “I saw you dancing with Cullen.”

      “He was quite a good dancer. Better than you.”

      She just rolls her eyes, “I have not needed to dance for many years. It is not in my interest to learn either.”

      “Oh, come on! Harding put a sign up offering dance lessons.”

      She laughs, “I do believe Lace is occupied with… other things.”

      “Meaning Krem?”

      “Iron Bull did yell it out to all of Skyhold. I would be surprised if someone didn’t know. I think they make a wonderful couple. It is very romantic.”

      I grin, “She told me all about it.”

      Cassandra stops, “And she didn’t invite me?”

      “You scare her.”

      “I do not. I would have loved to hear her…” She waves her hands, trying to find the right word.

      “Story? Not as scandalous as _Swords & Shields_ I’m afraid.”

      “No matter, she will have to tell me over dinner.”

      We stop to lean against the stone parapets and I send Cassandra a look, “You seem to be holding up relatively well from our experience in the Winter Palace.”                   

      She hangs her head, “It was quite… an experience to say the least. I do believe I never want to attend another ball again.”

      I laugh, “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

      She just looks at me, “You didn’t have to watch the nobles all night. They fight over petty things.”

      “You didn’t have to dance with the Duchess—the killer.”

      Now she laughs, “Andraste preserve me, you win.”

      “Ah, but we did have to see that naked man.”

      She closes her eyes, “Do not remind me of that poor man.”

      “Poor man? We were the ones that saw everything.”

      “Yes, but he was just as embarrassed.”

      “Unlike Bull, who seemed quite proud of himself when we barged in on him and Dorian.”

      She grunts, “I do not need reminding of that incident either.”

      “Next thing, I’ll be walking in on you and Varric.”

      Cassandra’s eye bulge from head, “Maker… no. We haven’t…. we haven’t done anything like that yet.”

      “Taking it slowly, I understand,” I say.

      Cassandra looks at me, “You would not be able to walk in on us anyway.”

      “And why not?”

      “Because I’ll make sure the door is locked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I’ve been really into the Harding/ Krem ship recently, so I thought I'd better add in a little scene with them! They’re too cute. And of course, the ol’ Varric and Cassandra. I must warn thee, there will be a lot of Varric/ Cassandra in the next few chapters :) I have a lot planned for them.


	62. Chapter 61

Maker, curse all of these reports. There’s too many to read and they just keep piling up on my desk. Most are just reports coming from the Winter Palace and from some of the Inquisition camps. Harding’s heading home from the Emerald Graves and she sent a raven ahead, warning us that there are Red Templars setting up camps in the region. Just another thing we’ve got to take care of.

      But I’m keen to have a drink with Harding.

      The doors to my chambers fly open and from the heavy footsteps coming my way, I can tell it’s Cassandra.

       I rub my eyes. “Ah, Cass, I may have to give the library a pass for today. I’ve literally knee deep in reports right now.” When I turn to face her, her eyes are wide, fists clenched at her sides.

      “Cassandra?”

      Something’s not right. That much I can tell.

      “Lydia, there’s… there’s a woman here. A dwarf.”

      I swallow, “If she’s her trading, take her down to Harrit. He’ll be able to give her a few good deals.”

      “No… she has come to speak to Varric.”

      I’ve never seen her so distraught. I stand from my chair, “Here for Varric?” I try not to think of the trouble in that. What does a dwarven woman want with Varric?

      I place a hand on Cassandra’s back and we move down the stairs together. I can tell Cassandra’s trying to keep it together, her face hard as stone. But I know her too well. She’s worried for Varric, or more likely worried as to who this woman could be. What she could _mean_.

      I think back to Varric’s weird behavior yesterday. He was hesitant in giving Cass a kiss—a jest I made to tease him. But was it because of this woman?

      Maybe my mind’s working overtime. He could’ve just been embarrassed.

      But Varric is never one to get embarrassed.  

      “Did she say who she was?” I ask.

      “No.” Cassandra’s voice is curt.

      When we reach the Great Hall, I walk towards Varric. I can see that he’s talking to someone. Her face is covered in the leather hood she wears and she has her arms crossed over her chest. Varric has a slight smile on his face.

      “I appreciate the warning, but you shouldn’t have come yourself,” I hear Varric say.

      Cassandra and I share a glance.

      “What if the Guild found out? Or… Whatshisname?”

      “Are you worried for me or for yourself?” asks the woman. Her voice is smooth and confident. And I instantly don’t like her. Her stance and her whole body language is too… _relaxed_. She knows Varric—quite well by the look of things.

      “A little of column A, a little of column B. I am the expendable one, after all,” replies Varric.

      “Aww,” she says, like he’s just a little kid. Something else that makes me not like her. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. We’ll just have to—”

      The woman notices Cassandra and I walking up to them and she cuts off her sentence. Varric seems surprised to see us, almost dropping the tankard he holds.

      “Well, this is a surprise,” says the woman. Her voice is colder. Make that three things that make me a little less happy to see her. “You’re the Inquisitor, right?” Her eyes move to Cassandra, moving up and down her form, evaluating her.

      Cassandra’s face is her usual scowl when she meets new people.

      “And you’re Cassandra Pentaghast. Yes, I’ve heard about you,” says the woman. As if casting Cass aside, the dwarf’s eyes move back up to meet mine. “Bianca Davri, at your service.” She smiles at me—a genuine smile. Perhaps I was wrong to judge so quickly.

      I try to act casual, “I take it you’re a friend of Varric’s?”

      “Who _isn’t_ a friend of Varric’s? You have met him before, right?”

      “Ah… I have met him, yes.” I say. Clearing my throat, I decide to add, “Well… um… any friend of Varric’s is welcome here.”

      “You be careful saying things like that. Some of his friends you don’t want to meet,” says Bianca with that smug smile.

      Varric just laughs nervously.

      “Well, maybe you do, who am I to judge?”

      Varric looks at me, “Bianca’s got a lead on where Corypheus got his red Lyrium.”

      “The site of Bartrand’s folly, the Thaig Varric found, has been leaked,” says Bianca. “There’s a Deep Roads entrance crawling with strange humans carting out red Lyrium by the handful.”

      “Strange humans? You mean Red Templars?” asks Cassandra.

      “I dunno, all humans are strange to me,” says Bianca.

      “Who could’ve given away the Thaig’s location?” I ask, before Cassandra decides to rip Bianca’s head off.

      “There were a few people who knew,” says Varric. “Hirelings from the expedition. A couple of close friends.”

      “How they found out isn’t important,” cuts Bianca. “What matters is we know where they are now.”

      I am suspicious though, “If it’s such a secret, how do you know about it, Bianca?”

      “I told her,” says Varric. “Right after the expedition, I wrote and told Bianca what we found. I had artifacts that needed buyers and she had more contacts that would pay for them. Plus, I owed her.”

      I look at the two of them, weighing up the pros and cons.

      “So what do you say, Stumbles?” asks Varric.

      I swallow, sharing a glance with Cassandra, “We need to deal with this. As long as he has this source, Corypheus is that much more powerful.”

      “I couldn’t agree more,” smiles Varric.

      “I’ll keep an eye on their operation. If you’re interested in shutting it down, you’ve got my help,” says Bianca. She looks at Varric, “Try not to leave me waiting too long, Varric. I’ve got my own work to do, you know.”

      She walks away from us, not bothering to look back. Harding walks through the keep doors, a grin on her face. Her expedition to the Emerald Graves is over. Bianca saunters past Harding, evaluating the scout like she did Cassandra. Satisfied, Bianca walks from the keep.

      Harding sends me a frown. She hadn’t even placed her bow down before a random woman judged her.

      Varric clears his throat, “Right. That’s not going to be trouble at all. Let me know when you want to head to the entrance.”

      He leaves us standing by the fire.

      Cassandra’s lips are pursed, “We leave this afternoon.” And with that, she turns and moves off to her chambers.

      I blink, “Yes ma’am.”

     

+++

 

And so we reach the entrance around midday, just because Cassandra—and Varric— were itching to leave.

      The ride here was awkward to say the least. Dorian and I tried to make small talk but it seemed Cass and Varric had other troubles of their own.

      This Bianca has really set Cassandra on edge. I try to comfort her, but she doesn’t want my words.

      I look around the entrance. It seems to be some sort tunnel, with stairs leading further into the darkness.

      “Finally,” hisses Bianca.

      I spin in fright at the sudden voice, nearly pissing my pants. Varric looks just as guilty. My eyes find the dwarf sitting in a nook of a rock, hood still covering her face.

      She looks at us, “I started to think you weren’t coming.”

      “Nobody said you had to hang out in the creepy cave while you waited,” says Varric.

      Bianca jumps down from her rocky seat and comes to stand next to us, “Well, I did wait. So let’s make this quick. These idiots are carrying red Lyrium out in unprotected containers. We don’t want to stick around long enough for it to start ‘talking’ to us.”

      I glance around the cave, “How did you find this operation in the first place? There must be hundreds of Deep Road entrances.”

      “I’ve used this entrance in the past. Varric’s not the only surface dwarf to explore the Deep Roads,” she explains. “Though I’ve got to admit, I was pretty surprised when I came here and found it full of humans.”

      “Strange humans,” mutters Cassandra.

      If Bianca heard her, she doesn’t react.

      I clear my throat, “Well, if you’re coming with us, I hope you know how to fight.”

      “No,” she says. “I thought I’d cower helplessly while you do all the work.”

      “She’s a decent shot,” says Varric with a smile.

      “Decent?” she repeats, narrowing her eyes.

      “You want me to admit you’re better than me in front of the Inquisitor?” asks Varric with a laugh.

      “Why? Are you trying impress someone?” I ask Varric, with a glance at Cassandra.

      “Let’s not waste any more time, shall we?” cuts Bianca.

      The two dwarfs head off further into the tunnel.

      I glance at Dorian and Cassandra, while both of them stare at me.

      “Ugh,” groans Cassandra, pushing me after them.

     

+++

 

We reach the top levels of these underground buildings and I glance around. The whole building seems to be set into the rock around it, while a massive cavern yawns out beside us. I can’t see its bottom. The dwarfs were certainly great builders. Not as regel as the elves, yet they still showed quite craftsmanship.

      We’re breathing heavily after running into some of the Carta gang, trying to steal some of the red Lyrium. But we took them down. And Cassandra seemed to be enjoying having something to hit that wasn’t Bianca.

      The two dwarfs move off together again, leaving us ‘strange humans’ behind.

      Dorian’s moustache twitches in what looks like annoyance. Though he’s trying to stay level-headed. Cassandra on the other hand looks like she could kill someone.

      I lead the two in tow of the others, quietly seething. Varric seems to have no consideration for us at all. He’s been all googly eyes with Bianca since she got here.

      It’s almost like they were…

      They were…

      I stop, mouth open in shock.

      They _were_ lovers.

      Cassandra places a hand on my shoulder, “Are you alright Lydia?”

      I look at her. She can tell. That’s why she’s been so frustrated. The way they just look at each other and how relaxed they are together…

      I swallow, “Yeah… I just thought of a report I need to reply to.”

      Cassandra doesn’t look convinced, but we keep walking. She doesn’t need me telling her what she already knows.

      As Varric quickly scans the hallway for more Carta, Bianca lets out a huff, “So is this what you do now?”

      “Beg pardon?” asks Varric.

      Their voices float through the cavern.

      “Skulking around in caves. Shooting guys. Is this your day-to-day?”

      “I usually try to avoid the caves,” huffs Varric.

      We move down a set of stairs and find ourselves deeper in the Deep Roads. Ironic really. No more Carta appear, which is good. Hopefully we managed to get all of them before they could take the red Lyrium to the surface.

      I’m still in shock from my brain finally putting the pieces together. Varric and Bianca: together? Is his crossbow named after her? And why did they breakup? What happened? They still seem comfortable around each other.

      Bianca takes us to a stone door, stopping just in front of it, “I built these doors. They probably shut this one from the other side when they heard the ruckus we were making.” She begins tinkering with the lock, fingers working with the lockpick. Something clicks and the door slides open.

      Bianca turns to me, “Ta-da!”

      I frown, “You’ve been here often enough to renovate the cave?”

      “You already know I’ve used this entrance in the past,” she says. There’s a slight edge to her voice. “I don’t know if Varric’s told you, but the Merchants Guild is cutthroat. Literally. I built the doors to keep rivals from following me down here and arranging ‘accidents’.”

      I smile, “Admit it, you’ve been waiting to do that since we arrived.”

      She laughs, “Of course I was.” The dwarf steps aside and nods, “After you.”

      I look at Cassandra and she walks through the door, Dorian following. Now it’s the ‘strange humans’ walking ahead of the two love birds.

      Red Lyrium grows from the floor and walls and I make sure not to touch it. Torches burn on the walls, sending flickering shadows across the room and along the red Lyrium.

      “How is Whathisname?” asks Varric.

      “Bogdan? He’s in Nervarra right now, selling my machine to wealthy landowners,” says Bianca.

      “I hear some of the Guild were trying to get you named Paragon for that contraption.”

      “That’s not going to happen. Even if I am ten times the smith Branka ever was. A surfacer Paragon? Never.”

      She’s cocky too. Just add that to the ever-expanding list of things I don’t like about her.                                                                                                                                      

      As we continue through the maze of dwarven architecture, we find more red Lyrium, packed away in crates. Some more Carta rush towards us, protecting their precious cargo. But with Dorian’s magic, Cassandra’s anger and my growing anger, we manage to take them down with relative ease. Varric and Bianca are still chatting away.

       “You know, this is almost fun. Kind of like old times,” says Bianca.

      “I don’t recall us ever shooting people together.”

      “Remember crashing Bartrand’s Guild dinner? We might as well have shot him.”

      I frown, “Crashing a party is a lot different from actually fighting people.”

      Varric just grins at me, “This isn’t nearly as dangerous as pissing off my brother.”

      I just have to grin, “Yeah, pissing off my brothers was quite a heck of a mistake.”

      We come to another door, but it’s locked. Bianca searches through some of the papers left by the Carta and finds a key, “There you are!” She scurries back to the door and kneels in front of it. Her fingers move too fast for me to watch and soon, the door clicks.

      Bianca stands but doesn’t turn to face us, “They won’t be able to use this entrance again.”

      Varric steps toward her, “Bianca…” His voice is wary. Of her.

      I look at Varric, “Varric?”

      Varric’s face changes. He’s angry, “Andraste’s ass, Bianca. You’re the leak.”

      I nearly choke.

      Bianca turns to face us, “When I got the location, I went and had a look for myself. And I found the red Lyrium and I… studied it.”

      Cassandra and I share a look and she seems just as shocked as I am.

      “You know what it does to people!” says Varric.

       “I was doing you a favour!” argues Bianca. “You want to help your brother, don’t you?” she looks away, “I just… wanted to figure it out.”

      “Did you figure it out?” I snap. My patience has finally worn off with her.

      “Actually… yes,” she says. “I found out that red Lyrium… It has the Blight, Varric! Do you know what that means?”

      “What? That two deadly things combine to form something super-awful?” He’s struggling to keep his anger down.

      “Lyrium is alive. Or… something like it. Blight doesn’t infect minerals. Only animals. I couldn’t get any further in my own, so I looked for a Grey Warden mage. Blight and magical expertise in one, right? And I found this guy, Larius. He seemed really interested in helping my research. So I gave him a key.”

      “Larius? He was the Grey Warden we met in Corypheus’…” He closes his eyes, “Oh, shit.” He looks at me, “I knew something seemed off.”

      My heart swelled for him. His ex-lover, who he’s still friends with, has betrayed him. He looked so happy to see her. And that just makes me hate Bianca even more. I place a hand against Cassandra’s stomach, stopping her from lunging at Bianca.

      Bianca swallows, “I didn’t realise until you said you found red Lyrium at Haven. I came here and… well… then I went to you.”

       “Larius? Does that name mean something to you, Varric?” I ask.

      “He was at the Grey Warden prison where we found Corypheus. And he definitely wasn’t a mage before.”

      I rub my head and try to remain calm. Sure, Bianca had set us up, but she didn’t know about Larius and what he would do. I sigh, “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”  
      “Maferath’s balls, she couldn’t! I told her exactly how bad this shit was. I told her to keep away from it.” He’s angry now. 

      “I know I screwed up, but we did fix it! It’s as right as I can make it,” says Bianca.

      “This isn’t one of your machines. You can’t just replace a part and make everything right.”

      “No, but I can try. Can’t I? Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?”

      “Ha! As if I would tell stories about my own mistakes,” snaps Varric.

      I growl, “Oh for pity’s sake, will you two just get a room?”

      Varric sighs, “Sorry Inquisitor.” But his eyes stay on Bianca, “We’ve done all we can here. Bianca, you’d better get home before someone misses you.”

      “Varric…”

      He just holds up a hand and turns away from her, “Don’t worry about it.”

      He walks from the room and Dorian follows after him.

      I look back at Bianca and I’m just about ready to tear her apart.

      Her dark eyes turn to me, “Get him killed and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs, Inquisitor.”

      That’s it. I’ve had enough of her.

      But before I can snap back a retort, Cassandra stalks towards Bianca, pushing her against the stone door, “We weren’t the ones to lie to him. You betrayed him!”

      The dwarf struggles in Cassandra’s grip and I almost let the Seeker do as she pleases. But Varric wouldn’t take kindly to us killing his ex-lover.

      I shove Cassandra away from Bianca, but I still stare daggers at the dwarf, “Do anything like that again and I won’t hesitate to suck you into a Rift.”

      And Bianca looks genuinely scared.

      Good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I hope that didn’t come off as too mean. If you haven’t noticed though, I do have quite a strong dislike for Bianca. She’s such a cow and I hate the way she threatens the Inquisitor at the end of the quest. She’s got some balls doing that. But yes! More fluffy Varric and Cassandra goodness on its way.


	63. Chapter 62

We ride through the Hinterlands, but I’m struggling to keep up with all of the problems. Dorian’s trying to settle Cassandra down after her outburst at Bianca. And I’m trying to make sure Varric’s alright.

      I ride next to him and he just stares at the reins. I try to act casual, but my fingers are twitching with anger. Bianca really had some balls trying the threaten us.

      Varric clears his throat, “I’m glad to have answers, but… shit. The second she showed up here, I knew. I just…” He looks at me, “I let this mess happen. I gave her the Thaig. And I am not good at dealing with shit like this.”

      “I don’t think anyone is equipped any better than you are, Varric,” I say.

      “No, no! The point is… I don’t… I don’t deal with things. If Cassandra hadn’t dragged me here, I’d still be in Kirkwall right now, pretending none of this was happening.”

      I look at him, “You know that’s not true. You’ve worked as hard as any of us to stop Corypheus.”

      “Is that true? I don’t even know anymore.”

      “Well, you’ve been with me from the start… and without you, I’m sure I wouldn’t have made it this far.

      He just gives me a small smile, “Thank you for your help back there.”

       I smile, “It’s fine Varric. I’m glad to help.”

      He looks at me, “You’re… you’re probably wondering how Bianca and I met.”

      “Well, now that you mention it…”

      He sighs, “I met her years ago when she still lived in Kirkwall and I was looking for someone with… ah… mechanical skills. Bianca is beyond a doubt the most brilliant smith you’ll ever meet. I haven’t seen her since she got married and moved to Orlais.”

      I blink, “Bianca is married? Somehow I thought the two of you… had a history.” Had I been wrong?

      “Bianca’s family are kalnas—surface dwarves so conservative, they don’t take a piss without asking the Ancestors first. They picked out a Smith caste boy for her. Wealthy, respected, has a great anvil collection. The perfect husband. I heard the wedding was lovely. The one Bianca actually showed up for, anyway.”

      I nod.

      But he just sighs, “Stumbles… we’re not together anymore, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out. We left each other years ago.”

      “I’m sorry Varric.”

      He waves a hand, “It’s… it’s fine Stumbles. I’ve suffered worse.”

      Nothing is worse than a broken heart.

      “I did love her once… but… but not anymore.” He stares at his hands, not daring to look at me.

      “I could see how much you care for her,” I say, voice soft.

      He just gives me a forced smile.

      But I leave him be, if he doesn’t want to talk anymore, that’s fine by me. I had been right. The two had chemistry, for sure, but I don’t know now. Varric’s shaken—and it’s very rare to see him like this. The only other time he was this upset was when he brought Hawke to Skyhold: and Cassandra had found out.

      I swallow. What about their relationship now?

      It’s Cassandra I’m now worried about. Varric will survive, he always bounces back. But, I know Cassandra’s not one to deal with shit like this either. I’ll have to cheer her up by rereading her a chapter of _Swords & Shields_.

      Varric looks at me, “I know what Cassandra said to her…”

      I swallow. He must have heard what I said too, “We were… both just angry.”

      “No, it’s fine. Thank you. I’m glad to have friends like you, Stumbles.”

      “We’ll always have your back, Varric. Especially Cass.”

      He just looks away, but I can see him smile to himself. Perhaps his feelings for Cassandra are stronger than his for Bianca.

     

+++

 

Harding waves me over to the training ring and I rush over. When we got back, Varric went straight to his room, while Cassandra took to the gardens with Dorian. Dorian had suggested that she help him with some herbs and she agreed. Anything to keep her mind off of Varric—and Bianca.

      And I was left by myself.

      But Harding’s grinning and there’s a small crowd around her. As I make my way to the front, I can see a cat sitting in the middle of the training ring. The troops had to stop their training so the cat doesn’t get hit.

      Its matted ginger fur is dirty, caked with snow. But its watches Harding, a regel look to it. And it’s quite cute, I must admit.

      Harding looks at me, “Please can we keep it?”

      I grin, “We’ll have to give it a bath first.”

      Harding and I kneel down in front of the cat and inspect it. How it managed to get here in the first place is a mystery. Perhaps it came with the pilgrims and just wondered up to the keep. Either way, it must be cold and hungry.

      Harding hands me a blanket and I hold it up hoping not to scare the cat. Harding edges closer and I glance up to see Krem watching from the tavern doorway. He leans against the door frame with a smirk on his face.

      “Hey there big guy,” says Harding, smiling at the cat. “How are you? A little cold? Don’t worry, we’ve got a blanket for you.”

      I shuffle forwards with her, keeping the blanket out in case the cat decides to bolt.

      Harding reaches out her hand, but the cat just watches her, yellow eyes hardly moving.

      “Come on, that’s it,” coos Harding. If anyone can tame a cat, it’s Harding.

      When Harding’s fingers touch the cat’s head, she smiles and softly pats it. The cat sits idle, seemingly enjoying the attention.

      I’m moving closer towards the cat, getting the blanket ready to drape over it. Harding grins at me.

      But that’s when the cat’s ears twitch back and it hisses. A paw swipes for Harding’s hand but she jerks back with a scream, scrambling behind me. I scream as well, throwing the blanket over the cat to contain it. Harding clings to my back while the cat wrestles with the blanket and I back away from it.

      If it’s a Rift-infected cat, Maker so help me.

      When the cat bolts from the blanket, the crowd leaps back, scrambling away from it. The little beast hisses at us again, ear flat against its head, fangs bared. And Harding stays clinging to my back.

      I glance at her and she just looks at me, shaking her head, “I’m not touching it again.”

      I shake my head, “No way.” We both back away from the cat.

      I hear an “Ugh,” and Cassandra walks up to hissing cat. She squats down slowly and holds a hand out. The cat stops its hissing and examines her hand. Cassandra places a hand to its head and pats it softly and soon I can hear it purring.

      Harding and I stare at the cat in disbelief.

      Cassandra picks he cat up in her arms and looks at the two of us, a delicate eyebrow rising in question.

      Harding just laughs nervously, “Well it certainly likes you.”

      Cassandra strokes the cat with a rather gentle hand, “He certainly took a liking to you too, Lace.” There’s a glint in her eye and I can tell she’s being sarcastic.

      “Much like that Rift-Bear,” I add.

      “Oh yes, you just have a way with nature,” smiles Cassandra.

      Harding blushes, “I love it when animals attack me.”

      I laugh, “It certainly makes you feel alive.”

      “Especially when I can feel talons ripping down my back.”

      I glance at the crowd and they seem mightily confused. They don’t understand that our conversation is 99% sarcastic.

      “Or when the bird flew into your hair,” I hear Krem yell.

      Harding just gives me a look, “We were hunting for food in the Hinterlands. Don’t ask.”

      I laugh, “Oh wow. See: Harding the Animal Whisperer.”

      “That’s me.”

      The cat purrs in Cassandra’s arms and the Seeker just smiles at us, “I’ll make sure he’s feed and refreshed. I hear Cole loves cats.”

      “Harding, did you want to join us in the library?” I ask.

      “I’d love to, but I have a pile of paperwork taller than me. I’ll be sure to head down to the tavern after though.”

      I grin, “It’s a date. With Krem. Cause Krem will be at the tavern.”

      We all look at Krem and he turns away, pretending to busy himself with the tavern sign.

      Harding grins at me as she begins her way towards her chambers, “And I’m sure Cullen will be there too.” She glances at Cassandra, “And Varric.” She gives the Seeker a wink before disappearing inside the keep.

     

     

Cassandra is quiet as we read. Almost too quiet. She had given the cat to Cole so he could look after it for a while. And if I remember correctly, she called the cat Autumn, for the colour of its fur. The smile on Cole’s face when Cass gave him the cat was enough to cheer me up, but Cassandra still hasn’t recovered from Bianca’s betrayal.

      She sits next to me, back leaning against the shelf behind us, shoulder gently touching mine. She’s immersed in the book she’s reading—a sequel to _The Beauty and the Beast_ , I believe. Usually, she would be telling me all about Friar and her beastly lover, but today Cassandra doesn’t want to talk about the characters.

      And that’s how I know something’s wrong. Well, of course there’s something wrong, but she’s not handling it well.

      I look up from the book I read, “Cass…?”

      “Yes?”

      I swallow, “Did you… did you want to talk about what happened today?”                

      She glances at me, her lips turning downward in a slight frown. The well-thumbed book drops into her lap, “There is nothing to say about it.”

      “Come on Cass, I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, we’ve all been there.”

      She looks at me, “I do not understand.”

      I sigh, “When I was 18, I had thought I found a perfect husband—as I’ve said before, mother was on my back trying to get me to marry young.” Cassandra just watches me and I continue my story, “We were at a small ball and we were dancing together. It was only than that a woman came up to us. My… suitor knew who she was: they were ex-lovers. When they danced together, I lost sight of them. I didn’t see him ever again.”

      Cassandra swallows, “I… I…” She turns away. “That was a horrible thing to do.”

      I just shrug, “I was heart-broken for weeks. Varric at least knew better than to run off with her. And I don’t think he ever would, if he could.”

      Cassandra blinks and her lips quiver, “He… he loves her though.”

      There is so much sadness in her eyes. Worse than when she had found out about Hawke. Maker, please don’t let her fall back into that doubt.

      I fix her with a look, “He loved her. Once, but not anymore, Cass. He’s moved onto someone else.”

      Cassandra just shakes her head, “No… how could I compete with her. She… she’s beautiful and a dwarf and… Andraste persevere me, she wasn’t the one to capture him… to interrogate him. He’ll never forgive me for that.”

      “He already has, Cass,” I say softly.

      Cassandra puts a hand to her forehead, refusing my words, “He has never looked at me the way he looks at her.”

      She’s breaking—she’s beginning to doubt her feelings for him… and his feelings for her. She doesn’t know what she means to Varric. She can’t see it. I pry her fingers loose from her fist and squeeze her hand, “That’s because you’re not looking at him when he does.”

      She blinks at that and looks at me, “What?”

      I laugh, “Oh come on! You’re too busy looking after me to notice, but I see it. And if I didn’t know better, you’re the one he wants. Not Bianca.”                                         

      She’s blushing now, which I take as a good sign. She playfully hits my shoulder, “You always distract me. Everything you do is dangerous.”

      I shrug, “I’ll probably fall down a cliff then. If it means you catch him staring at you, I’ll take one for the team.”

      She smiles, “Thank you.”

      She looks down at the book in her lap, “Are you sure, Lydia?”

      “Of course I’m sure.” I push at her, “Go on! Go talk to him.”

      “What? Now? That’s… that’s…”

      “You’re well read on all things smutty, you’re be fine. Cheer him up by quoting _Swords & Shields_. He’ll appreciate that.”

      We stand from our spots, but Cassandra’s face falls, “I do not know what to say to him.”

      “Start with, ‘I love your chest hair’.”

      She narrows her eyes dangerously, “That’s preposterous. He’ll push me out.”

      I pull a face, “I really don’t think he would.” I grin, “More like he’ll push you to the bed.”

      Cassandra’s mouth drops open, “Never!”

      “Oh sorry, he’ll gently lay you down on the bed.”

      “That’s better.”

      We both let out a laugh. Placing our books back on the neat shelves—thanks to Dorian’s wonderful cleaning skills—we begin our way back to the Great Hall for something to eat. Though Cassandra’s still blushing from my comment.

      “I cannot believe she had the gall to threaten us, after it was her who had betrayed him,” says Cassandra.

      I nod slowly, “I’m sure she’ll rethink threatening us again.”

      “Do you think we did the right thing, Lydia?”

      “Threatening her? Yes, I do think we did the right thing. She had no right to do what she did. Bianca could’ve been truthful in the first place.”

      She nods, eyes flicking up to meet mine and she straightens, “Lydia, what should I say to him?”

      I grin at her, “You’re asking me?”

      “Well, yes.”

      “I am the most awkward person to ever live in Thedas, I never have any clue of what to say.”

      “I don’t find you awkward. Just weird.”

      “That’s a load of confidence coming from my best friend.”

      “I will always have your back.”

      I laugh softly, then clear my throat, “But if you’re stuck… I’d just ask him how he’s feeling. You never know, he might just need someone to talk to. If anyone can cheer him up, it’s you.”

      Her hazel eyes search mine, “That is all?”

      “I wouldn’t say so if it wasn’t,” I say with a nod. “Go Cass, you’re the one he wants.”

      Her mouth twitches into a small smile and she gives me a quick hug, “I’ll see what I can do.”

      And with that she moves off to find Varric.

      I blink, grinning to myself, I can’t believe that actually worked. She’s going to talk to Varric. Call me a match maker, because I totally just made them an official couple. Hopefully. If Cass doesn’t stuff it up. Which she won’t.

      But it’s strange to think how far Cassandra has come. She would never speak to Varric—or anyone for that matter—about their problems. Now she’s willing to help people. Even me. And I smile at that. She’s a good person.

      I glance around the Great Hall, which is full of scouts. I can see Harding and Krem talking quietly together near the wall.

      I waltz over to them, “Finished your paperwork, Harding?”

      “Why yes. It’s now only a small pile,” she says.

      I grin, “Are you two up for a drink?”

      “When are we not, Inquisitor?” asks Krem. He grins at the two of us.

      “Well, let us be off. I’ve got some very important news.”

      The others are already waiting for me at the tavern. Varric isn’t there, which is a great sign. Hopefully he’s making out with Cassandra. Or something even better.

      Dorian and Bull pepper me with questions and when everyone settles down, I tell them about Cass.

      Dorian grins, “My, my, Lydia. I think you’ve done it. You’ve finally brought them together.”

      And I can’t help but feel proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: Varric and Cassandra fluff. And there's still plenty more of it to come!! Oh boy, I'm too deep in this ship to stop. Someone call the police.


	64. Chapter 63

I can feel the sun on me, warming my cold skin. But I don’t open my eyes. Not yet. It’s nice in the gardens and this chair is way too comfortable to move from. Having a day off was the best decision I’ve made in a while.

      After the Bianca debacle a few days ago, I haven’t really had time to rest. I’ve been pulled away into meetings with my advisors and lunches with various nobles. I decided I needed to rest, which is what I’m doing now. I certainly needed it.

      My body is still waking from my nap, protesting against getting up. I don’t know how long I’ve been napping for, but someone will probably be looking for me. There’s always something I need to do.

      I lift my head and rub my eyes. Yawning, I finally pry my eyes open.

      That’s when I see the boy. He just stares at me. His brown hair is neatly combed and his clothes are actually quite nice. A Grey Warden sigil is pinned to the middle of his chest and I frown. Is he one of the Grey Wardens? Surely not.  
      We stare at each other.

      “You’re the Inquisitor,” he says after a few seconds and staring at each other. “I thought you’d be scarier. Mother said you were scary.”

      I smile at the boy, sitting up, “Some people think I’m the most frightening thing in the world.”

      “Mother says they would think the same about me, if they knew.”

      What is he talking about? Is he a mage?

      Morrigan walks over to us. Her black hair is up in a messy bun and her clothing is perhaps not the best type of armour, “Kieran,” she says. “Are you bothering the Inquisitor?”

      “Oh course not, did you _see_ what’s on her hand, Mother?”

      My mark itches when he mentions it.

      Morrigan smiles at me, “I did see.” She nods at the boy, “‘Tis time to return to your studies, little man.”

      The boy just sighs and Morrigan gestures for him to leave. He gives me one last smile before turning, heading back to his room. I can’t help but smile. The boy reminds in of my little brother, though much more polite.

      Morrigan gives me a small laugh, “My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally.”

      I swallow, “I didn’t know you had a son.”

      “Why would you? I take great pains to not let my own reputation affect him in any way,” she explains. “To most in the Imperial Court, he is simply a quiet and well-spoken lad. Perhaps the heir of some distant family. But he goes where I go. Worry not, Inquisitor—Kieran is a curious boy, but seldom troublesome.”

      I glance around the gardens, “Will his father be joining us as well?”

      “I have raised Kieran on my own for quite some time now, as was my preference from the start. So ‘tis but the two of us, Inquisitor. Your fortress is a large place and you will scarce notice our presence.”

      I smile, “He seems like a fine young man.”

      “But not the sort one might expect a woman like me to raise,” says Morrigan, golden eyes shining.

      She is right though. I had never thought she would have a child, let alone one so well-mannered.

      Her lips turn into a small frown, “No son of mine would be raised in a marsh, bereft of contact with the outside world.”

      Something tells me she was raised in a marsh.

      “His future will be difficult enough without my adding to his burden.” She tilts her head, “To think, until recently this place stood decrepit only by the desperate and the lost. Now it is party to events that threaten to shake the world. I wonder if it is pleased?”

       I swallow, “It sounds like you’ve heard of Skyhold before.” There’s something about Morrigan that could make me listen to her for the whole day. She has this wisdom to her and I’d love to hear all of her stories.

      “This fortress was built upon the remains of a site holy to the ancient elves. They called is Tarasyl’an: ‘The place where the sky is kept’,” explains Morrigan. “It is said that from here, they reached up to the heavens to bring them down to rest. They abandoned it, as did the humans who came after them. Bones laid upon bones, silent until your arrival.”

      Looking at the strong walls and the people milling around, I can’t help but smile, “I like this place. I’ve made it mine… well, ours. The Inquisition’s.”

      “The magic in this place has seeped into the stones, protecting it from darkness. Those who let it fall to ruin did not know what they possessed. You, I think, shall do it justice. You were kind to welcome my aid, Inquisitor. Even knowing as little of me as you do. I will do my best to aid your cause with all the knowledge at my disposal. This I swear to you.”

      “I appreciate whatever help you can give us,” I say with a nod of thanks.

      Morrigan’s golden eyes stare into mine, “Some might think Corypheus a madman for seeking godhood. Yet one must ask what _were_ the Old Gods? What secrets of theirs did the ancient magisters know? What I fear—what all should fear—is not that Corypheus believes he can succeed: ‘Tis that he actually may.”                                      

      I give her a nervous laugh, “Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Corypheus doesn’t win.”

      Her golden eyes stare at me and I can tell she’s about to say something, but Leliana walks over to us. Her hood is still covering her head as usual, but Morrigan seems to know who she is. Perhaps they had met at the ball before.

      “Ah, Leliana, how are you?” asks Morrigan. “It has been quite some time, has it not?”                                                                                                                                    

      Leliana smiles, “It has. Nine years if I remember correctly.”

      I blink, “You two know each other?”

      “Of course,” says Leliana. “We were both part of the Hero of Fereldan’s team in the Fifth Blight.”

      I grin, looking at Morrigan, “You’ve met the Queen?”

      “She was not Queen at the time, but yes. I do remember our adventures together.”

      Leliana nods, “We were always getting in trouble. Remember when we pranked Alistair? It had back-fired so dramatically.”

      “‘Twas a wonderful plan. Until he figured it out,” says Morrigan. “But Breinne was still able to seduce him.”

      Leliana looks at me, “It was thanks to our planning that Alistair has his Queen.”

      “You three sound like Harding, Cass and I.”

      “We were quite the team. But perhaps you three get into more trouble than we ever did,” she gives me a smile. “Especially when you’ve had to much to drink.”

      I can feel myself blushing.

      Morrigan nods to Leliana, “How are you, Leliana? You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

      “I might say the same about you, Morrigan. But, I am very good. I trust you’ve settled into Skyhold?”

      “‘Tis quite a lovely fortress.”

      “Thanks to the Inquisitor, it’s been renovated into something of great awe,” says Leliana, glancing around the gardens.

      I can feel myself blushing even more, “Well, it’s the least I can do.”

      Morrigan nods, “I hear you’ve found someone, Leliana. Josephine, if my information is correct.”

      The spymaster dips her head and I can tell she’s blushing, “Yes. Josephine is a great woman.”

      “I am happy for you then,” smiles Morrigan.

      “Thank you,” says Leliana. She touches my arm, “I was sent to find you, Inquisitor. Varric wishes to speak to you.”

      I frown, “Varric? As in Varric Tethras?”

      “There is only one Varric.”

      “He sent you?”

      “It is very important, I hear,” nods Leliana.

      “Why would he send you?”

      “I was simply told to find you. So I did.”

      I swallow, “Well, I’ll leave you two be then.”

      Leliana smiles, “I’m sure you’ll find the news quite satisfying.”

      I give Morrigan a farewell nod and spin on my heel. What could possibly by so important that Varric sent Leliana to find me?

      I haven’t seen him for a while, now that I think about it. He’s probably got another story to tell about his adventures with Hawke.

      “Your dress was gorgeous at the Winter Palace, Morrigan,” I hear Leliana say as I walk away. “You did take my advice with the dipping neckline and red velvet.”

      “I don’t know how you remember that,” replies Morrigan. “That was nine years ago. I thought you would be annoying others with your fashion advice.”

      “I’m glad you wore it. I told you it would look nice.”

      I make my way into the Great Hall where lunch is just about finished. Some troops mill around the tables, chatting quietly. Varric sits in the corner of the hall, sipping a tankard of mead. When he spots me, he waves me over and I take a sit in the chair opposite him.

      “You wanted to see me?” I ask.

      “I did, Stumbles,” he smiles. But he pushes a drink towards me, “You may want to have some before I tell you.”

      I frown. Is it bad news? I look around the Hall, but everyone seems fine. If something bad happened, all of Skyhold would have been in a panic.

      I take the tankard and swallow a mouthful of the refreshing mead, “Alright. I’m ready. I think.”

      Varric takes a breath, glancing around the Hall before his eyes return to mine.

      Is he _blushing_? No, it must be the light.

      “Cassandra came to see me a few days ago—you probably know that.”

      I blink, “What… what did she say?” So she didn’t chicken out. That, I’m glad about.

      Varric looks at his tankard, “Well… that she wasn’t a fan of Bianca.”

      I grimace, “She did?”

      Varric sighs, “I don’t blame her. After what Bianca did, it would be weird if she did like her. Talk about first impressions.”

      My fingers tighten around the tankard and I laugh nervously.

      But Varric just smiles at me, “I know it was you Stumbles. But if you hadn’t have given her the extra confidence, I would probably still be in my rooms, pitying myself.”

      I smile, “What did she do? Kick you up the ass?”

      “Something like that.” He takes a big gulp of mead and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “I had finished the next installment of _Swords & Shields_.”

      I straighten, “You did?”

      He nods, “I thought it would be a good idea to give it to her as a thank you gift. For, you know, kicking me up the ass. Getting me moving again.”

      I grin, “Did she like it?”

      He takes another gulp of mead. He keeps his eyes on the tankard, fingers grasped tight around it.

      He just shrugs, “I don’t know. She hasn’t read it yet.”

      “You should have read it to her. I’m sure she would have enjoyed that.”

      “We were… busy doing other things.”

      I blink, “You were what?”

      “Busy doing _other_ things,” he says, giving me a pointed look.

      I frown, “Yeah, but what? Frolicking around in the gardens or beating up training dummies. Though, I’m sure drinking at the tavern would have been much better, right Varric?” I purse my lips, “Or were you two reading in the library? So romantic.”

      Varric rubs a hand against his forehead, “Andraste’s balls, Lydia. We slept together.”

      I stare at Varric for what seems like years. Did he just say…? Did I hear correctly? I take a gulp of my mead and when I speak, I can hardly contain the excitement in my voice, “Slept together as in…”

      “As in naked and all.”

      I almost die.

      A grin spreads across my face, “Maker, this is the best thing you’ve ever told me. That’s more romantic than reading together in the library.”

      He just stares at me and I stare right back. I can hardly contain my excitement. I slam my tankard on down on the table, ready to rush to wherever the Seeker herself is hiding.

      But Varric leans over, grabbing my arm, “Stumbles! No, you can’t let her know you know.”

      I look at him, “Why?”

      He sighs, “Because… she wanted to tell you herself…”

      “Maker, you just spoiled the surprise for me.”

      “Maybe so. I know Cassandra would have told you that we… bedded each other, but nothing else. No details whatsoever. So I decided to compromise. I’ll tell you everything if you act surprised when she tells you tonight.”

      A wicked grin spreads across my face, “You’ve got a deal, Varric. Now tell me everything. Was she nervous? Maker, I bet she was nervous.” I squeal, “This is too cute and you haven’t even told me yet.”

      He just laughs, “Are you sure you want to hear it then?”

      “You’re the storyteller. I’m sure you’ve written worse in your books.”

      Varric just pushes my tankard towards me and I take, ready to hear his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord, so they finally did the sassytime! Thank goodness! But, there is still more Cass/ Varric to come, for sure my children. Also, I just want to say a big thank you to all 150 + of you who have left kudos. You guys rock! And to those who take the time to comment, I thank you so much! You guys keep me motivated!


	65. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter will contain shameless smut. You can skip the scene if you’re not comfortable, I completely understand. The three plus signs (+) will signal the end of the smut. But for those of you who do read it, Cass and Varric certainly deserve some loving. Enjoy, but do be gentle, this is my second time writing something like this, so I’m still a novice.

Varric held the book to his chest. The damned book. He couldn’t believe she actually loved the shit he wrote.

      But if it made Cassandra happy, he was willing to keep _Swords & Shields _going. Not to mention the Inquisitor also had a slight interest in his story. He couldn’t keep her waiting for the next installment either. Or she’d suck him into a Rift.

      When he reached the courtyard, cold air brushed against his skin and his hands moved to button up his tunic. But his fingers hesitated… the Seeker liked his chest, didn’t she?

      He swallowed. Who was he kidding, she probably didn’t even care.

      The courtyard was empty as he walked across it. He was sure everyone would be in the tavern and he knew Stumbles and Cullen were having dinner together.

      Pushing the forge door open, he was glad to have the warm air against his skin. The building was empty and the dormant forges sent shadows across the wooden floors. Varric took the stairs slowly and tried to calm his breathing.

      Why was he so flustered? Usually it was the Seeker that always seemed to blush. Though, he didn’t mind when she blushed. It was kind of cute.

 

.

.

.

 

“Wait, you actually think it’s cute when she blushes?” I ask, grinning like a maniac.

      “Well, yes, I do,” nods Varric.

      I laugh, “Maker, that’s cute that you think it’s cute.” I take a gulp of my mead.

      He waves a hand, “She only blushes when she’s not trying to kill me. So anytime she blushes is good.”

      “Which is a lot now,” I say. “She blushes just thinking about you. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen.

      “You interrupted my story.”

      “Oh, but all means, continue!”

      Varric clears his throat and continues his recount…

 

.

.

.

 

When Varric reached the top of the stairs, he could see that her door was closed. Should he knock, or just walk in? Cassandra wouldn’t appreciate him barging in on her., but he might loss all courage before even knocking on the door. Or worse, losing courage after he had door on the door.

      He paused as he tried to figure out what to do. After she had spoken to him yesterday, he was feeling much better about the whole Bianca situation. Cassandra had comforted in a way he didn’t know she could do. So the book was a thank you gift, for keeping him moping around, feeling sorry for himself.

      Knocking would be the best option, he had decided. Once he gathered enough balls to actually knock.

      With one hand wrapped tightly around the book and the other poised inches from the wooden door, he steeled his nerves.

      Seriously, what had gotten into him? He was usually the calm one.

       His knuckles rapped the wooden door softly.

      “Come in,” her voice was deep, accent thick, like she had just woken from sleep.

      Shit. Did he wake her?

      He pushed the door open slowly and peeked his head inside, “It’s just me Seeker.”

      She was sitting on her bed, legs bent to her chest, a book resting against her thighs. Her braid was still curled around her head, but Varric noticed it was quite messy. A candle burned on the table beside her and when he smiled at her, she shut the book she was reading. Cassandra jerked, pulling to furs up to cover her lose night dress, “Varric?”

      She was obviously thinking it was someone else at her door.

      He stepped inside her room. It was well-furnished. Her four-poster bed had red Inquisition banners draping from the high wooden frames. A small desk sat in the corner of the room, while a fireplace was on the other side of the room, flames crackling in the hearth. Stumbles had renovated Cassandra’s room, if Varric could remember correctly. Before, all the Seeker had was a bedroll. He’d guessed that being the Inquisitor’s best friend would lead to some great room improvements.

      Varric closed the door, “Sorry to disturb you, Seeker.”

      She just blinked at him, “No… I… you may take a seat if you like.” She placed the book on the bedside table and shifted, allowing Varric to sit on the edge of the bed. He did, but he sat down gingerly, at the end of the bed.

      “I had… thought you were Lydia,” she commented.

      He just smiled, “Sorry to disappoint Seeker. I may not be as tall as Lydia, but I do come with good intent. I have a gift for you.”

      “A gift?”

      “Let’s just say it’s a little something for helping me yesterday.”

      “Oh, Varric. You do not need to thank me.”

      “Yes I do.” He handed her the hard-covered book and she took it gently. Then she saw the cover. The Knight-Captain was standing in front of a Chantry, long red hair curling in the wind.

      He heard her gasp and she gave him an excited smile, “The next chapter?”

      “Edited and proof-read for your convenience,” he said with a mock bow. “I am but a humble servant to my readers, remember that.”

 

.

.

.

 

“You took the time to edit it? Maker, Varric. You’ve totally fallen ass over teakettle for her, haven’t you?” I ask.

      He gives me a look and takes a sip of his mead, “Shush. I’m telling the story. Do you want to hear it or not?”

      “Sure, sure. Fine. But just admit it, you’re totally into her. I knew you would. Right from the first moment I saw you together.”

      Varric just gives me a wicked smile, “As I was saying…”

 

.

.

.

 

Cassandra’s fingers slid along the leather spine of the book, her smile lighting up the room, “Thank you Varric.”

      “Don’t mention it. I knew I had to get the Knight-Captain out of her situation. I’m sorry I left it as a cliff hanger.”

      Cassandra looked at him, “Lydia hated that cliff hanger.”

      Varric just shrugged, hand moving against the soft furs, “A writer needs to make his money somehow. Leaving the ending open means more people will buy the next installment.”

      The Seeker just gave him a look, “It is not all about the money, Varric.”

      “I know, I know.” He gave her a laugh, but they fell into silence. Her hazel eyes stared into his and he was lost to them.

      He cleared his throat and Cassandra snapped from their trance, looking away quickly. Varric stood, knowing Cassandra probably wanted to be left alone.

      He nodded at her, “Well, I… better give you some peace and quiet to start reading.”

      She blinked at him, “Oh… yes. I’d… better start reading.” She gripped the book close to her chest, like a child would a toy bear.

      She looked so beautiful.

      But he knew no amount of words could tell the Seeker what he felt for her—even if he was a writer.

      Before Varric knew what he was doing, he closed the gap between them, her hair tangled in his fingers, his lips against hers.

      He pulled away, “Thank you for helping me Cass.” And with that he turned away and moved towards the door.

      From the corner of his eye, he could see Cassandra staring at him, her mouth slightly open in shock.

      When his fingers wrapped around the metal door handle, he gently opened the door. The warm air from the resting forges rushed into the room.

      “Wait!” Cassandra’s voice filled the air.

      He stopped, fingers frozen on the handle. Varric turned slowly around.

      Cassandra swallowed, “You… you can stay if you would like.” Her voice cracked. “I mean, if you want, you could read with me.”

      Varric swallowed, watching the Seeker. She wasn’t joking, he could tell that much from her blush.

      His fingers slid along the handle and with a soft click, the lock fell into place. Cassandra blinked, but didn’t say anything.

      He squared his shoulders and walked towards the bed. He gave Cassandra a smirk before ripping off his tunic and wrapping the Seeker up in his arms. He held her close as he kissed her. Then he made sweet passionate love to her.

 

.

.

.

 

“Okay, that is _not_ how it went,” I say. “First of all, she would scream if you ripped off your tunic. Do you know how many times she’s told me how toned your chest is? She would want to marvel at it for a few minutes.”

      Varric chuckles, “Stumbles, you’re too smart for your own good. She actually did spend a few seconds looking over my chest.”

      “She probably peed her pants in excitement.”

      “She wasn’t wearing any.”

      I grin at Varric, “Oh really? Well, you better tell the story—the real story.” 

      “That pretty much is the real story,” laughs Varric. “But fine, I’ll give you some more details…”

 

.

.

.

 

Cassandra shifted as Varric walked towards the bed, “We do not have to read if you do not feel like it. We could…”

      Varric knew she was embarrassed for suggesting him to stay. He didn’t mind at all, but he knew this was something big for the Seeker. She had probably never asked for a man to stay in her rooms before.

      Varric gently took the book from Cassandra’s hands and placed it on the bedside table. Her eyes followed him, as he made his way onto the bed.

      Her chest heaved up and down and her hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar. She pulled his lips onto hers and it took him a few seconds to realise he was on top of the Seeker. His mind, curse it, wondered back to the morning just before reaching Skyhold. He had somehow managed to roll on top of Cassandra when he thought Lydia was an intruder. It was the first time he touched Cassandra’s breast, too. Clothed, but still a breast. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he had wanted to touch her like that long after the incident.

      He hand was cupping her cheek, while hers were wrapped around his neck. He shifted, so he straddled her hips, though his lips were still firmly pressed against hers. There was nothing desperate about the kiss, but both of them knew where this was going.

      When she pulled away, her cheeks were rosy, “Varric… I… it has been a while since I’ve done this.”

      Too long, he knew. For a woman bearing so many responsibilities.

      Some sort of fondness crossed her face as she looked at him, hand pressed against his chest, “But, I am glad you stayed.”

      Varric’s forehead rested against hers, “You are the only one I want Seeker.” He didn’t want to think about Bianca, not at a time like this. He didn’t have to think about her. She was just another memory. But Cassandra, she was right here, touching his skin, breathing against him. His fingers brushed against the long scar on her cheek, “If you’d allow me, I’d like to do something much better than reading.”

      Cassandra shifted, fingers moving to the hem of his tunic. Varric took that as a yes. Her eyes flicked to his and he just smiled, helping her with his tunic.

      With his tunic off, her hands travelled along his chest.

      He couldn’t help but chuckle, “I hope the chest hair is up to your standards.”

      Cassandra swallowed, “It is all I could imagine.” She was entranced by his chest, her eyes travelling along his muscled stomach. Her fingers glided along his stomach and he had to admit, it felt good. She kept going though, fingers ghosting along his chest, stopping for a few seconds to finally get a good look at his famous chest hair. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Then her fingers were moving along his strong arms, along the bulging veins in his forearms.

      But her wonderful touch stopped when his own fingers started tugging at the sides of her night dress. The thin straps rested against her strong shoulders and the thin purple silk draped over the rest of her body, stopping at the middle of her thighs. All Varric wanted to do was rip it off her body.

      He looked at her for approval. If she didn’t want to do this, all she had to say was no.

      But she nodded at him and he didn’t need to be told twice. He continued and soon, the silk dress was sliding off her shoulders. She was _tall_ , Varric noted. And human. Long limbs, strong legs, wide hips and… Andraste’s tits, she was beautiful. Strong muscles coiled beneath her tanned skin and shit, he could never tell what she was hiding under her armour. It was all he could ask for. She was warm and… heck, he couldn’t keep his eyes from her. But Cassandra’s cheeks flushed from the attention and his hands found the swell of her breasts. His lips moved along them and Cassandra had let out a breathy moan.

      Varric’s eyes scanned her stomach. Old scars were scattered across the expanse of her skin from various fights, but it’s the one on her lower stomach that made Varric stop.

      It was the wound that nearly took her life. He kissed the red, raised scar and she shuddered.

      “I nearly lost you that day,” he said.

      Cassandra’s hands rested on his shoulders and she glanced at her scar, “The Maker saw that I was to live another day.”

      “Well, when I see Him, I’ll thank Him.”

      She slapped his shoulder playfully and Varric kissed her again.

      He just couldn’t believe the Seeker was naked beneath him. It was certainly something he could get used to.

      He could feel her tugging at the strings of his pants and he chuckled, “Need some help?”

      She grumbled and continued her mission. Varric took her hands in his, surprised at how small hers were in comparison to his. He kissed her knuckles, “Princess.”

      She let out a small laugh, “Far from it.”

      “Not to me,” Varric said.

      She grabbed the back of Varric’s neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His hands brushed against her sides, moving up and down.

      But before Varric knew it, she was pulling his pants off his hips.

      He didn’t even have a chance to give her a witty remark before her fingers curled around him. He groaned softly and the smirk on Cassandra’s face was a rare expression. But he liked it.

      His lips travelled along her stomach, along her scar and to her hips. He could feel her muscles tense and he flicked her a grin before lifting her leg.

      Varric placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh and looked at her, “Trust me?”

      She nodded, though he could see that she was still tense, that familiar look on her face.

      His fingers moved softly up her thigh and when he hit his mark, he could feel Cassandra gasp in shock.

 

.

.

.

 

“Oh, kinky,” Harding says, blinking.

      Harding had joined as just before the juicy details of Varric’s story. Of course, Varric didn’t want her to stay, but I allowed her. I’m the Inquisitor after all, I can say who stays and who doesn’t.

      “Shut it,” says Varric. “I’m sure Krem does the same to you.”

      Harding jerks back, a blush spreading across her cheeks, “Well, he doesn’t tell everyone about it.”

      I can’t help but grin, “You’re not denying it! That’s adorable.”

      Varric sighs, “Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”

      I grin, “What kind of question is that? Of course.”

      Harding shoots me a wicked grin, “I do hear Cullen is quite good with his fingers too.”

      “Dear Maker, let me just tell the story,” says Varric.

      “Fine, okay, okay,” I say. I glance at Harding, “And yes, he’s quite wonderful.”

      Harding gasps in surprise, giving me a quick laugh.

      Varric just groans…

 

.

.

.

 

Cassandra’s fingers were tangled in his hair, her hips rolled against Varric’s touch. Never before had the Seeker let her guard down to him like this. It was new to Varric, but something he liked. It sparked at warmth in his stomach. This was certainly something he could get used to.

      Her whole body was relaxed now, the last of the tension released when Varric had begun his work. He was grateful she hadn’t cut off his tongue when she was interrogating him. She would regret it now. People always told him he had a sharp tongue—for witty remarks and now for eliciting moans from the Seeker’s own lips.

      Her thighs trembled with his touch and her hands were in his hair.

      The hitch in her breathing and the arch of her hips told Varric of her release. Her knees clenched around his head, but she relaxed, legs dropping to the bed. He smiled, glancing up at the Seeker.

      Her head was back against the pillows, hands clenched at the sheets beside her. Her black hair was plastered to her forehead. Her lip quivered as the last of her release faded away.

      He pressed a kiss to her stomach and pulled her hips towards him. Her hands came to his neck and she kissed his skin, her mouth hot and desperate, fingers returning to curl around him.

      Varric knew this wasn’t as scandalous as any of the pages he’d written in _Swords & Shields_, but this was real. They won’t characters in a made up story. Whatever they felt for one other was real and to Varric, it was one of the greatest things he had felt in a long time.

      Her fingers tightened around him but he just grinned at her, moving to gain a better position. He hadn’t really thought about the height difference before—after all, he’d never been with a human. But Cassandra shifted to help him and soon they were comfortable.

      Varric gave Cassandra one last look and she nodded at him, “I trust you, Varric.”

      His heart was beating faster as he moved his hips. Her back arched when he slowly rocked into her. She may be experienced, but he wasn’t going to be rough. He was a gentleman.  


.

.

.

 

I snort, “Oh please.”

      “Shut it,” he snaps.

      Harding giggles, “A true gentleman.”

      Varric takes a gulp from his tankard, “We’re getting to the good bit.”

 

.

.

.

 

They were slow at first, but when they found their rhythm, Varric couldn’t help but move faster, his thrusts becoming more desperate. For her. He couldn’t get enough of her.

      Cassandra’s hands moved across his back, nails digging into his skin and his own hands were cupping her cheeks. He could feel her sharp cheekbones beneath his fingers. Strong and human. Just how he loved her.

      Their lips are gentle, yet urgent against each other and soon they move in unison, hips thrusting against each other. They found their own pace, their own movements, like they’ve been doing this their whole lives. Like they had never been enemies with one another. Like they had never hated the sight of one another.

      Now Varric can’t bear not being with Cassandra. She was his anchor to this word torn asunder.

      Cassandra’s hips rolled against his and Varric couldn’t help but let out a moan and he saw the small smirk that moved across Cassandra’s lips.

      He had lost track of time. But it felt like years, the heat of Cassandra around him, her hands roaming his body, her eyes closed in pleasure.

      When he came, it was sudden, but Cassandra still had her lips pressed to his chest, hands fisted in his hair. His body shuddered and he cursed, bringing his chin to rest on Cassandra’s stomach.

      Her breathing was heavy and when she opened her eyes, she looked even more beautiful. She gave him a quick kiss, “Thank you, Varric.”

      Varric just gave her a throaty laugh, “The pleasure is all mine, Cassandra.”

      He didn’t find any trouble falling asleep, with her curled against him. With her by his side, he felt as though he could do anything.

 

+++

 

I blink, “That’s it?”

      “Yes,” drools Varric. “Wasn’t it up to your standards?”

      “Of course it was up to my standards. You and the bloody Seeker had slept with each other! That’s all I could ever ask for. But what happened after that?”

      “We… fell asleep naked.”

      “Did you read some of the book?” asks Harding. “Better still, did you reenact some of the scenes from the book?”

      I spurt the mead from my mouth, “Yeah! Did you?”

      Varric leans back in his chair, “Perhaps next time. Now, keep your mouths shut.”

      Harding and I glance at each other.

      “Ah, no can do, Varric. Sorry!” I say.

      His eyes flash to us, but before he can say anything, Harding and I are running from our chairs and hurdling down the steps.

      I can hear Varric running behind us, “Balls, I knew you were going to do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAAYYYYYY CASSANDRA AND VARRIC SMUT IS THE BEST SMUT. I hope you enjoyed that little ‘kinky’ scene, as Harding would say. Why was it in third person, I hear you asking (though maybe not). Well, I wanted it to be kinda of reminiscent of the interrogation in the second game. Cassandra would interrupt Varric throughout the game and that’s what I was going for in this chapter with Lydia and Harding talking. But yes, I hope you enjoyed that. Stay groovy my pretties.


	66. Chapter 65

Harding’s practically bounding down the steps and I’m close behind her. Varric’s legs are shorter, so he struggles to catch up with us.

      People turn to glance at Harding and I, scowling us for running on the stairs. But I don’t care. I’m the Inquisitor. And Varric and Cassandra have finally slept together.

      ‘Tis a beautiful day.

      There she is, standing regel as ever next to the training ring. And there are others training in the ring, Cullen sparring with them, yelling orders. The troops getting ready to train all turn to Harding and I as we continue down the stairs. Too bad Dorian isn’t here to see this.

      Harding shoots off the last stair, almost losing her balance.

      “Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Why Didn’t You Tell Me Pentaghast!” I yell. My voice echoes around the clearing and I’m rushing down the stairs so fast, I forget the last step.

      My foot falls further than I had anticipated and I scream, tipping forwards as I fall into a heap on the ground. Cullen spins, sword dropping from his grip. The troop he is training hits him, unaware of my fall. Harding is scrambling back towards me, but her hysterical laughter makes her bend over, clutching her stomach.

      Varric stops behind me, but I leap to my feet, not caring that I landed on my face. And Harding’s laugh is quite funny.

      I flick her a grin.

      By now, everyone’s wondering why the Inquisitor has fallen down the stairs while yelling Cassandra’s fall name with a deranged look in her eyes. And why Harding is bending over laughing so hard.

      Cassandra herself just watches in shock, backing away slightly.

      But I scream as I run towards the Seeker, arms out stretched. I wrap her into a big hug, squeezing tightly. If she made a big fuss when she had learnt that I had slept with Cullen, than I’m going to make an even bigger fuse when she’s slept with Varric.

      I can’t keep the smile from my face and I laugh, “You finally slept with him.”

      Cassandra pulls me from the hug and stares daggers at me, “Who told you?” But her eyes wander to someone behind me and she already knows the answer.

      I just grin.

      She looks back at me, “I was going to tell you tonight at dinner.”

      I glance at Varric who comes to stand next to Harding, “Your _lover_ beat you to it.”

      She gives Varric a look.

      “Was it all you hoped for?” I ask. “Was he good?”

      “I’m standing right here, you know,” mutters Varric.

      Harding sends him a grin.

      Cassandra glances at Harding, and sighs, “He told you everything.”

      “It was like he was reading a scene out of _Swords & Shields_,” I say.

      Cassandra’s eyes widen and pulls me to my feet, “Oh…”

      I glance at the others around us. Cullen is staring at us wide eyed and blushing and the troops watch in shock as to what’s happening.

      But Cassandra’s blushing and she looks at Varric, “How much did you tell them?”

      She isn’t angry with him, which is a first. And it’s kind of cute.

      “It was very detailed,” says Harding.

      Cassandra makes a sound that resembles a scream.

      Varric scratches the back of his neck, “It made for a good story.”

      “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you had a wonderful time,” I say with a grin. “Harding and I could barely contain our excitement.” I place an arm on Harding’s shoulder and lean against her.

      Cassandra glances around the courtyard. Almost everyone is listening to our conversation. She swallows, “Yes, well. The Maker has been kind.”

      “More like Varric was kind. With his tongue,” I say. I hold up my hand and Harding slaps it, grinning.

      “Ugh. You two will be the death of me.”

      Varric clears his throat, “Well, now that you’ve had your little scream, can we please keep it down. The whole of Skyhold doesn’t need to know.”

      “Sure they do. You’re the star couple.”

      “Actually, that’s you and Curly over there,” retorts Varric.

      Cullen smiles at me when I look at him. I wink back.

      Cassandra pushes me towards the training ring, flicking a finger at Harding, “You two are coming with me. We need to train.”

      “I’d thought you would be a little tired after your exercise last night,” I say.

      “I have a lot of stamina, I’d have you know,” snaps Cassandra.

      I blink, “Oh really? Go tell that to Varric.”

      “Just get your sword. And Lace, stop laughing, it’s only encouraging her.”

      Harding just gives me a grin.

      The troops clear out of Cassandra’s way and soon, the three of us are sparring together. The Seeker is blushing, but she’s also laughing as Harding and I recount Varric’s story. In detail of course.

 

+++

 

Our weekly Wicked Grace nights are back on schedule, with the events of the Winter Palace finally a few weeks behind us. All we’ve got to worry about now is Corypheus’ next move. But that’s a topic for tomorrow’s war room meetings. Oh the joy.

      Tonight, it’s just my closest friends and I playing a game of Wicked Grace. And not strip. Thank the Maker.

      Though Sera’s pretty sad about that.

       We’re already halfway through the game, with Josephine winning most of the rounds. But I’m winning a few too, which is quite a surprise.

      I glance up from my cards to see Dorian grinning at me. I blink in surprise, wondering why. Do I have something on my face? Or does he see my hand? I frown at him, but he just wiggles his eyebrows.

      It’s then that I see Krem staring at Iron Bull. Bull’s second-in-command looks just as confused as I do. Bull is grinning straight at Cassandra, who’s too occupied with her cards to notice him. Krem glances at me, his brow rising in question.

      Dorian and Bull are up to something.

      Most of the table by now have noticed Bull’s grinning and are staring at him.

      Iron Bull just winks at me and takes a gulp a mead from his tankard, “So Cassandra…”

      Cassandra’s eyes flick to him, “Yes?”

      “I here Varric is very good with his sword,” says Bull.

      Cass sighs, “Varric does not use a sword.”

      “But you’ve been training his sword, haven’t you?” presses Bull.

      Varric stiffens, shooting a look at Bull.

      I bite the inside of my lip to stop my laugh. Sera straightens in her seat, giving me a look.

      “No,” Cassandra replies, utterly oblivious to what Bull is _actually_ saying.

      “Oh,” drools Bull. “I hear it’s quite a big sword.”

      The mead I drink shoots from my nose and I try to cover the laugh up as a sneeze. Harding is giggling next to me, while Cassandra just stares at us.

      My three advisors glance at each other, but I can tell they’re a little more polite than to snort out their mead. Josephine’s cheeks are red and she has to grip Leliana’s hand to calm herself.

      Varric on the other hand is mortified. His unblinking eyes stare at the table and he doesn’t move.

      “Do you need a cloth, Lydia?” asks Cassandra.

      “No,” I say quickly. “I’m fine.”

      “I’m sure Varric’s sword could use a little polishing though,” says Bull.

      Cassandra looks at the Qunari, “I said he does not use a—” Her face turns to horror, “By the Maker.”

      Dorian nods, “That’s twice now you’ve managed to _not_ pick up the innuendo.”

      I remember back to when we were playing a board game and Cassandra needed _wood_. It took her a few minutes to figure out what we were laughing about.

      Sera bursts out into a fit of laughter, slapping her thigh as her laugh echoes around the tavern. Some of the other patrons turn to look at our table, trying to figure out what all the fuss is about. I’m laughing so hard that no sound escapes my mouth.

      The Seeker looks at me, “And you knew what they were talking about?”

      I cough, trying to soothe my laughing fit, though Sera’s still going strong, “It took me a few seconds, but yes.”

      She groans, rubbing a hand against her forehead. “Maker preserve me. It would be best to warn me before making a joke of that nature.”

      “It wouldn’t be that funny then,” I say.  

      Cassandra just sighs and glances at Bull, “I will have you know that he’s quite skilled with his sword.”

      And the table erupts into cheers. And I think I nearly pee my pants from excitement.

 

+++

 

Cullen’s strong arms are warm and I rest my head against his bare chest. His fingers skim along my back. The candle burnt out ages ago, yet we’re still awake.

      Pulling the furs up around my shoulders, I can’t help but smile, “Dorian and I finally did it, Cullen.”

      Cullen sleepily lifts his head to look at me. I can see his smile through the moon’s light, “You did a wonderful job, Lydia.”

      I breathe in his scent, “I’m just glad they found each other. After all, it took them long enough.”

      He chuckles, “Varric took longer than me to confess his feelings.”

      I slap his chest softly, “Well, you’re just a ladies man, aren’t you?”

      Cullen flips me so he’s atop me, “Only to you.”

      “And I prefer it that way,” I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Bless Cassandra and her innocence. Only a short chapter this time, but we're moving onto the Arbor Wilds and what not now, so strap your seat belts on, it's going to get a little bumpy.


	67. Chapter 66

My advisors are already at the war table when I walk in. I’ve gone through this discussion all morning and I’m glad to finally get it off my chest. We haven’t heard or seen Corypheus for weeks. Duchess Florianne was the last accomplice we had faced and I had sentenced her to permanent common work. On a farm far away from here. Yet under the protection of the Inquisition, just to make sure she doesn’t escape.

      I clear my throat, “Alright guys, it’s time to plan our next attack. What’s the state of the Inquisition?”

      Josephine nods, “We’re well loved in Orlais. Say the word and Empress Celene will send her support.”

      Cullen looks at me, “And your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of pet demons. With Orlais’ support, our numbers match his. Corypheus’ followers must be panicking.”

      “My agents agree. Our victories have shaken his disciples,” says Leliana.

      I didn’t think we were this prepared. But it’s a great thing, we’re most than ready to go up against Corypheus. I nod, “Perhaps they’ll rethink following the Darkspawn Magister from the dawn of time. What is Corypheus now?”

      “After you dealt with the Duchess, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds. He’s moving south to the Arbor Wilds,” says Cullen. “His army clearly wasn’t prepared to flee. Our victories have them on the defensive.”

      “They’re terrorized Thedas long enough. We end them now. If Corypheus is hiding in the Arbor Wilds, that’s where we’ll go,” I say. I’ve never been to the Arbor Wilds, but if it means taking take Corypheus, I’m in. Cullen nods at my determination.

      “But what is Corypheus doing in such a remote area?” asks Josephine.

      “His people have been ransacking Elven ruins since Haven. We believe he seeks more,” says Leliana. “What he hopes to find, however… continues to elude us.”

      “Which should surprise no one,” comes a familiar voice. I turn to see Morrigan walking through the open doors. She comes to stop beside me, “Fortunately, I can assist.” She looks at me, golden eyes staring right into mine.

      “You have my attention, Lady Morrigan,” I say with a nod. It seems that whenever I’m around her, I have to act polite. It must just be the way she acts herself—always keeping her head high and she speaks with wisdom. Something the Inquisition definitely needs at this moment.

      “What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous.”

      “Which is?” I prompt.

      “‘Tis best… if I show you,” she says.

      I glance at the others and nod at them. Cullen eyes Morrigan suspiciously, but I give him a quick look to sooth him. Leliana just gives Morrigan a quick nod.

      If Leliana trusts her, then so do I.

      Morrigan takes me to a part of Skyhold that is yet to be renovated. The stone bricks are dirty and cracked. The furniture in the room has been covered with white sheets—meaning that it is either broken or the Inquisition has no use for it.

      But the tall mirror standing at the end of the room is the much more exciting than the covered up furniture. The face of the mirror glows in a bluish light, rippling along the reflective surface so that I can no longer peer at myself through it.

      “This is an Eluvian,” says Morrigan, look that explains everything.

      I give her a look.

      “An elven artifact, from a time long before their empire was most to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks.”

      I blink, “You can restore an artifact like this?”

      “There was a price, but one I gladly paid,” she answers. “I found legends of an elven temple within the Arbor Wilds, untouched. It proved too dangerous to approach and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The Eluvian would be his.”

      “What does it do?” I ask.

      Morrigan just turns to the Eluvian and thrusts her hands towards it. The blue glow brightens and in a flash, I can see what’s beyond the screen. But it looks nothing like the real world. The blue light still ripples across the mirror, sending the whole room into a blue tinge.

      “A more appropriate question would be ‘where does it lead?’” says Morrigan. And with that, she walks straight through the blue mirror and into the world beyond it.

      I blink in surprise as the mirror swallows her. Standing there in shock for a few seconds, many reasons come into my head as to why this is a bad idea.

      But, what the heck, I might as well.

      And so I step in after Morrigan, the blue mirror swallowing me up like it did Morrigan.

      The place beyond the Eluvian is bland and dark. Weird tree-like sculptures are scattered around the place, while stone buildings stand cracked and broken. Some similar mirrors glow faintly in other stone buildings, yet most are dark. The whole place feels off. And I even feel a little woozy.

      “If this place once had a name, it has long been lost,” says Morrigan from behind me. Her voice echoes.

      A thick fog covers the whole place, shadows looming at every corner. I want to explore, yet there is a nagging in the back of my mind that I shouldn’t be here.

      “I call it the Crossroads,” continues Morrigan. “A place where all Eluvians join… wherever they might be.”

      “This place… is extraordinary. How could this even exist?” I ask.

      “Who can say? Formed from the fabric of time and space, perhaps. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they traveled between them. As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest… a few can be opened from this side. But only a few.”

      I’ve been so shocked, I can hardly say anything. But I gather my thoughts long enough to form a sentence, “How did you find out about this place?”

      “My travels have led me to many strange destinations, Inquisitor,” says Morrigan. “Once they led me here. It offered sanctuary.”

      “Sanctuary?” I ask.

      “Not all the mirrors lead back to our world. The ancients were nothing if not… resourceful.”

      “If they don’t lead back to our world, then…?”

      Morrigan gives me a small smile, “Places between, like this one. I can describe it no better. For a time, I was safe from those who hunted me. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever.”

      “Corypheus wants to come… here?” I ask, trying to get the full story.

      “This… is not the Fade, but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…”

      “And enter the Fade in the flesh,” I finish, finally understanding his plan. “Like Corypheus wanted to do with the Anchor.”

      “He learned of the Eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces to reach it.” She tilts her head and we head back to the Eluvian. She hesitates at the mirror and turns to me, “You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him and soon.”

      She walks back through the mirror, leaving me in the creepy place.

      I give the Crossroads one last look before stepping back through it.

      Morrigan walks me back to the war room in silence. I’m too stunned to talk and I’m sure Morrigan is giving me time to allow everything to sink in.

      I bid her farewell and head back into the war room.

      Cullen breathes a sigh of relief when I walk back in, “Maker’s breath I was about to send a search party to look for you.”

      Josephine gives me a look, “He was listing off worse case scenarios.”

      I give Cullen a smile, “I’m fine, Cullen. Thank you though. It’s sweet that you were worried.”

      Leliana and Josephine exchange looks.

      I huff, “Oh come on. You two lovers would probably be just as worried if one of you went missing.”

      Leliana tries to act cool, but she sighs, “You are right, Inquisitor. I would send the whole of Thedas to look for Josephine if she were missing.”

      Josephine blushes and gives Leliana a kiss on the cheek in thanks.

      I wiggle my eyebrows at the two, “I hope Cullen and I aren’t interrupting something here.”

      “Don’t be silly, Inquisitor,” says Josephine. “We have all day after this meeting for that.”

      I can’t help but let out a laugh.

      Leliana tries to hide her expression under her hood, but I know she’s smiling. The spymaster clears her throat, “What did Morrigan show you, Inquisitor, before this meeting gets out of hand.”

      “Right. Well, I think I know what Corypheus is trying to do.” I tell them about the Eluvian and how Morrigan believes Corypheus is planning on using the one from the Arbor Wilds. I then recall the creepy Crossroads and how it is a place between the real world and the Fade.

      It takes me a good 30 minutes to explain everything but when I finish, I dismiss the meeting. Leliana sends a smile to Josephine as they leave the room. Cullen gives me a kiss before heading to his office to finish off some paperwork.

      I waltz through the reach, hoping to find either Harding or Cassandra. But it’s not even lunch time yet, so they’re probably out doing work. Unlike me.

      It’s only when I walk down the stone stairs that I see Josephine talking to a Chantry Mother, her writing board from the meeting still tucked under an arm. The Mother is wearing the red and white robes, covered head to toe.

      “The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine,” I hear the Mother say.

      Josephine nods, yet her lips are pressed together, “I am well aware of that, Revered Mother.”

      “We will need them to return to Val Royeaux as soon as possible. There are ceremonies—ordinations! Maker’s mercy,” says the Mother.

      Who has to leave? I continue down the stairs slowly.

      “That’s quite impossible at the moment. However, I will see to this matter as soon as possible,” explains Josephine. Though she doesn’t seem too happy about it.

      As I descend the last step, the Mother turns to me, “My Lady Inquisitor. Please, may I have a word with you?”

      I glance at Josephine as I come to stand next to her, “How may I assist you, Revered Mother?”

      The Mother nods, “With the political turmoil put to rest, our minds turn to a single question: the next Divine.”

      I certainly wasn’t asking myself that question. I had totally forgotten about the next Divine until now.

      “We cannot answer it without the Left and Right Hands of Divine Justinia V.”

      “I have already told you, Revered Mother; Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties.”

      My breath hitches in my throat. She wants to take those two away? No, I can’t let them.

      “But surely with the support of the Empire, the Inquisition will not be harmed by the loss of just two souls?”

      I cross my arms, “Why do you need Leliana and Cassandra?”

      “They were Her Holiness’ most trusted advisors. They represent her legacy, her hopes for peace in Thedas. They could rally the Grand Clerics to follow as no candidate from the clergy has been able to.”

      “How long does the Chantry need them?” I press.

      “Several months at least. If one of them is crowned Divine—”

      “Crowned Divine?” I yell. “Who said anything about being Divine?”

      The Mother just blinks, “Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra were Justinia’s most trusted friends and advisors. Our late Divine is still held in high esteem. To honour her, the Grand Clerics might support one of them as a successor.”

      I clench my fists, “If one is crowned Divine, they won’t be returning to the Inquisition, is that what you’re saying?”

      “Yes,” nods the Mother.

      My best friend or Josephine’s lover.

      I have to dig my nails into my palms to stop from crying. Why now? Why does the Chantry need them now?

      “Leliana and Cassandra would have… to make that decision for themselves,” I manage to say.

      “And they certainly will,” says Josephine, though her voice is soft. “At a later date. The Inquisitor has just learned of a new plan and has important business to attend to.”

      She’s getting me out of this, thank the Maker.

      “You must excuse us, Revered Mother.”

      The Mother looks at me, then back at Josephine before bowing and heading back towards the gates.

      I turn to Josephine and I can tell she’s as sad as I am. Though she’s trying not to show it. Her eyes scan her writing board to distract herself.

      Her eyes move to mine after a few moments, “Don’t let them detract from your plan in the Arbor Wilds. Corypheus is close. We’ve beaten his Wardens and stopped his intrigues. Soon, he will have no place to hide.”

      I nod, but I can feel my lip quiver, “I… don’t want either of them to leave.”

      “As do I, Inquisitor,” she says. Her fingers tighten around her board and without thinking, I pull her into a hug.

      “We’ll get through this,” I say, trying to sound strong. “Leliana and Cassandra are both great women. They’ll sort this out.”

      Josephine just nods, “I hope you’re right, Lydia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hated being told that Leliana or Cassandra weren’t going to return to the Inquisition at the end of the game. That broke my heart when I played through the first time :( But, as always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	68. Chapter 67

Leliana kneels before the small alter in her rookery, staring at the little statue of Andraste on the shelf. She doesn’t even open her eyes, “So it’s true. Some look to Cassandra or even me as Justinia’s successor. I never thought the idea would gain momentum. Of course, with the other candidates out of the picture…” Her eyes open to look at me as I lean against the wall next to her.

      She doesn’t look sad. Just tired.

      “Is becoming Divine something you really want?” I ask.

      “When Justinia was alive, I would’ve laughed at anyone who even suggested that I could be her successor. Things have changed. Still, I don’t know.” She pauses, “Restoring the Chantry will be like trying to steer a sinking vessel through a storm.”

      I swallow, “Whoever becomes Divine will have my support if she requires it.”

      “And I’m sure whoever becomes Divine will absolutely require the Inquisition’s backing,” says Leliana. She stands slowly, “The Chantry is faltering, but is still has influence over the people. Who tells the people what’s right? Who do they look to in times of peril? A Divine with enough support can change to Chantry and with it, Thedas. But, this is a discussion for later. If Corypheus wins, finding a new Divine will be the least of our problems.”

      I nod, taking that as a sign that she wants to be left alone. I push myself off the wall and give her a smile, “We’ll speak later Leliana.” But I hesitate. There is one thing I still need to ask her.

      Leliana notices my hesitation and tilts her head, “I do not know what will happen to Josie if I am crowned Divine,” she says, reading my mind. “Perhaps she will become my Right Hand. Or perhaps she will stay with the Inquisition and make sure you do not trip over things.”

      I blush. How did she know what I was going to ask? Clearing my throat, I nod, “You can’t… marry her, can you?”

      “A woman has never married when crowned Divine before. I do not know if it is allowed,” her voice is soft.

      “You’re the Divine, can’t you change that? You are still a person after all—someone who deserves to be happy.”

      Leliana smiles wistfully, “Perhaps. Only time will tell. Have you spoken to Cassandra yet?”

      I swallow, “No.”

      I don’t tell her I hadn’t wanted to speak to Cassandra about it. I made sure to avoid her after being told about the situation yesterday. I would probably start crying otherwise. I hadn’t slept well last night, either. Even with Cullen’s soothing and gentle touch. But, I had planned to see Leliana this morning.

      Leliana clasps my shoulder, “She may need a friend to talk to.”

      “And I don’t want either of my friends to leave,” I argue.

      “Go to her, Lydia.”

      I’m walking from the rookery before I can even comprehend what I’m doing. I walk through Solas’ office to find him sipping some tea. But he pulls a face and puts the cup down.

      “Something wrong with your tea?” I ask, stopping before his desk.

      “It is tea. I detest the stuff.”

      “May I ask why you’re drinking it then?”

      “I need to shake the dreams from my mind.”

      “And tea does that?”

      “Yes.”

      I blink, “That’s… pretty amazing. Just like you walking in the Fade.”

      Solas smiles, “As I recall, I have not been to the Fade physically, unlike you.”

      “Well, I wouldn’t recommend. There are quite a lot of spiders.”

      That earns me a chuckle, “Yes, spiders are quite… dislikable. But, Lydia, I am sure you have much more pressing matters than to be talking to me about spiders and tea.”

      I frown, “Hey, you’re pretty interesting to talk to Solas. Don’t sell yourself sort. Though, we may have to stop talking about spiders. I can feel the goose bumps already.”

      Solas waves a hand, “Go speak to Cassandra. She needs you more than me.”

      I smile, not knowing how he knew, “I’ll see you around, Solas,” I walk towards the door, but stop, “It’s always good speaking to you.”

      He gives me a nod.

      Solas never was one for company, but I always find his conversations slightly interesting. Though perhaps a little weird for my taste. He’s a pretty nice guy to chat to.

      Finally, I reach the forges. My body takes a shuddering breath as I try to steel my nerves. Don’t cry, Lydia. Stay strong: for Cassandra and Leliana.

      Pushing the door open, I can hear voices from inside.

      “Will you not consider it, Lady Cassandra?” asks Mother Giselle. So she’s onto it as well. I move towards the two slowly. “The Clerics are still sequestered. If no one steps forward, they will debate until—”

      “And you think _I_ could make them agree?” asks Cassandra. She shifts and sees me, her face a stone mask.

      What does she think about all this?

      I stop walking, knowing that if I move any closer, the water works will begin. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t have to two most influential women taken from my life—from the Inquisition.

      “I’ve had enough for one day, Mother Giselle,” says Cassandra, glaring at the Mother.

      Mother Giselle just nods and bids Cass farewell before walking towards the door. But not before she passes me. She pauses, “Talk to her, Your Worship.” And with that, she moves away, leaving Cassandra and I to the forges.

      I’ll talk to her, but not for the reason you want.

      Cassandra turns to me, coming to stand close.

      I just sigh, “The fun never ends in Skyhold, does it?” My sarcastic voice sounds much more confident than how I really feel.

      “ _‘The Inquisitor was hilarious’_. That’s what they’ll say one day, you watch,” she says.

      Her own joke takes me by surprise and I laugh.

      “I assume you’ve heard that Leliana and I are both candidates to be the next Divine. Because of what happened at Halamshiral, or course. The Empire favors you, thus everyone close to you. So now the Chantry bandies our names about without even asking us first.”

      “Why…” I clear my dry throat, “Why am I not a candidate—if they’ll pick non-priests?”

      “Because they don’t know what you are and they’re frightened of you. A weight such as yours would break the Sunburst Throne and tear the Chantry to pieces.”

      “Are you saying I’m fat?”

      “Yes,” says Cassandra, seriously. Then she smiles, “I am only joking. Do not ever think yourself fat. I am simply saying you’re title as the Inquisitor would throw the world into chaos.”

      I nod.

      “I just don’t know why they believe Leliana or I would be any better.”

      I perk up at hearing that, “If you don’t want it, then tell them so.”

      Cassandra regards me for a second, before gently taking my arm and leading me outside, “Surely it was never meant to be like this.”

      Her words surprise me.

      “The Chantry, the Circle of Magi, the Templars. This cannot be what they intended when it all began.” We stop next to the training dummies. “The Chantry should provide faith. _Hope_. Instead, it cannot veer from its course, even in the face of certain death.”

      “Cass… I’m surprised to hear you, of all people, say that.”

      “Oh? Am I not the same woman who declared the Inquisition against the Chantry’s wishes? In all my years as a Seeker, I did what I was told. My faith demanded it. But now my faith demands something else: that I see with better eyes.”

      “If you’re concerned, then make it better,” I say.

       “Did you know Varric is Andrastian?”

      I blink at the change of subject, “No. Did he scream Andraste’s name when you were making sweet passionate love to him?” I just have to add that into our conversation. Keeping it funny means I’m less likely to cry.

      She laughs, “Oh, he blasphemies with every second breath, but deep down, he believes his heart is virtuous. But he would never step foot in a Chantry. It should be the first place to which the virtuous turn. It needs to change. Perhaps I must be the one to change it. The Circle of Magi has its place, but it needs reform. Let the mages govern themselves, with our help. Let the Templars stand not as the jailors of mages, but as protectors of the innocent. We must be vigilant, but we must also be compassionate to all people of Thedas, human or no. That is what I would change.”

      My lip quivers. Her vision of the future _is_ much better than what the Chantry originally was. I nod at her, “I… I have influence and I can use it to help the Chantry make up its mind.” If she wants this, who am I to stop her. It would be selfish to not allow her.

      Cassandra holds my hand, “I cannot ask you to do that, Lydia. I suppose I should not be concerned. The Clerics speak my name for now, nothing more. For now, restoring order and stopping Corypheus remain our priority.”

      I keep nodding, jaw shut tight to hold in my sob. But tears prick at my eyes and I have to stare at the ground to hold them in.

      Strong fingers wrap around my chin and push my face up, forcing me to meet her eyes, “Lydia, I will not leave you. I will make sure I write to you and see you. _If_ I become Divine.”

      I nod again, too afraid to speak.

      Cassandra’s arms wrap around me, a hand coming to the back of my neck. She holds my head to the crook of her neck and the first sob escapes my throat.

      Then the rest fall from my mouth.

      Cassandra’s hug tightens.

      “I almost lost you to the red Lyrium. And now the Chantry wants to take you away,” I sob. “You’re my best friend, Cass.”

      “I know,” she soothes. “I know, Lydia.”

      “And what about Varric? You two only just got to sleeping together… and now you have to leave him again.”

      “Varric and I will have plenty of time together,” she whispers.

      I grip her armour harder, trying to stop these stupid tears, “Make sure you reenact a scene of _Swords & Shields_.” The joke would have been funnier if I wasn’t crying.

       But Cassandra still laughs anyway, “We already have.”

      “Really?”

      “No.”

      I sigh, “You got my hopes up.”

      “I do apologise.”

      “You should,” I say, gripping her tighter.

      “How about we get some lunch?” she asks.

      “I would love that, Cass. And how about some chocolate cake after?”

      “No, it has to be caramel cake,” she snaps.

      “I forgot you’re the only person in the whole of Thedas that doesn’t like chocolate cake.”

      “I do like it, but caramel cake is tastier.”

      Laughing, I pull from Cassandra’s arms, “I’m sorry…”

      “For what?”

      “For… the water works. I just… the Inquisition is the best thing that ever happened to me and now it’s getting torn apart.”

      Cassandra smiles softly, “Not while I’m around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just a short filler chapter this time, because I needed to set everything up for the next few chapters. But I hope it wasn’t too boring for you all. Going into the Arbor Wilds is definitely close, though still a few chapters away. We are nearing the end (oh the feels) but still lots more excitement to come my groovy children.
> 
> On a side note, I'll be going away for ten days and I won't be able to upload any chapters, cause we're out in the middle of the Australian desert. :/ But yes, I will upload a chapter as soon as I can when I get back!! Until then my friends, enjoy your week!


	69. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back from my trip! I survived the Australian outback (those spiders are the worst) And I've finally written another chapter. Enjoy!!

 

Harding, Cassandra and I walk along the stone bridge, heading back to Skyhold. The two days after Cassandra and Leliana were selected as candidates for Divine have gone in a blur. I’ve been closing more Rifts, training some of Cullen’s troops and even helping Dorian with a few matters of his own.

      Cullen had thought it best if the three of us went out to the Hinterlands to hunt for the day. Which was very sweet of him. And when I say hunt, Cassandra and I sat perfectly still in the bushes while Harding tracked the game. So, with three rabbits dangling from each of our belts, I feel like we’ve actually accomplished something.

      “Oh, that one went pretty far, Lydia,” says Harding.

      I watch as the rock bounces along the frozen lake skidding to a stop in the middle of the ice. The bridge we stand on is high above the ice and the three of us have to peer over the railing to watch my rock. It’s quite a long walk across the bridge and knowing that if this broke, we would fall 50 metres to our deaths on the ice.

      Me being me, I decided to have a rock throwing contest to see who could throw the furthest. And of course Cassandra is winning.

      Harding grips the stone barrier as we walk along the bridge, eyes on the rock I just threw, “That was better than your first throw.”

      Cassandra shakes her head, “I’m still winning.”

      Harding goes next, eyeing a spot in the middle of the lake. And she pegs the rock over the bridge. It sails through the air, taking a few seconds before it hits the ice. The rock bounces along quite unceremoniously before stopping just behind mine.

      “Son of a nug, I thought it was going to be a good throw.”

      “Well, you improved,” says Cassandra. “That’s the main thing.”

      “And you _are_ smaller than us, Harding,” I say with a grin.

      She sends me a look, “Yes, thank you for noticing.”

      “You are quite welcome. Don’t worry, good things come in small packages.”

      Cassandra laughs, “Certainly.”

      “Well, I am pretty amazing,” says Harding, grinning from ear to ear.

      We’re in the centre of the bridge by now and I can see the tips of Skyhold’s battlements from here. Inquisition banners flap in the wind. We’re nearly home. 

      “Right Cassandra! This is for the winning throw,” I say.

      “Even if I’m already winning?”

      “If you throw further then Harding and I, you can win a hug from both of us.”

      “Oh the joy,” she mutters.

      And so she readies herself, rubbing the surface of the rock for good luck. Because the stakes are so high.

      With a strong thrust of her arm, the rock whistles through the air. The rock falls smoothly through the air and hits the ice, the force of the impact breaking the rock in half. One half embeds itself into the ice, while the other half tumbles along the lake. It flies past Harding’s and mine and continues to roll, finally sliding to a halt ten metres away from ours.

      I blink, “Wow, okay, show off why don’t you.”

      But Harding and Cassandra are staring at the rock embedded in the ice. Cracks snake out behind it. But the ice doesn’t break.

      “Hey, it’s fine. No one’s on the ice,” I say.

      But that’s when a large fissure whips out from the rock, zigzagging its way along the ice. My eyes follow it as it moves to the edge of the lake and up the glazier at the start of the bridge.

      Oh Maker.

      The bridge shudders as the ice cliff it’s connected to begins to crack. And a roar reverberates across the frozen tundra.

      “Please tell me that was your stomach, Harding,” I say.

      “I wish it was,” she whispers, clutching the railing for dear life.

      The frozen lake erupts in a spray of ice and cold water, sending it higher than the bridge itself. And what emerges from the icy water is a dragon.

      A huge, white, massive, flesh-tearing dragon. Its fangs are the size of my arm, head bigger than Cassandra. Its leathery wings flap to steady itself in the broken ice, tail whipping back and forth.

      The dragon’s green eyes move to look at us and it roars again, echoing through the mountains.

      We’re silent for a few seconds.

      Harding lets out a whimper and I step backwards, “Run.” But the words are too soft, my throat dry. I swallow and try again, this time gathering up my breath, “Run!” And my voice is almost as loud as the dragon’s roar.

      Cassandra and Harding don’t have to be asked twice and soon the three of us are sprinting along the rest of the bridge.

      Turning back, I can see the dragon leap onto the start of the bridge, talons ripping into the stone. It looks around as if getting its bearings.

      “Cassandra! You kill it! You’re the dragon slayer here,” I yell.

      “Those stories were exaggerated,” huffs Cassandra. “Leave the rabbits.”

      Harding and I yank the rabbit carcasses from our belts, chucking them towards the dragon in hopes it will eat them instead of us. Cassandra does the same.

      We leap of the bridge in time to see the dragon breathing a jet of ice onto the stone. The bridge cracks from the sudden coldness, chunks breaking off and falling to the frozen lake below.

      Sprinting up a small hill, we crest it to see Skyhold standing majestically in front of us. Yet we still have at least a two hundred metres before we actually reach the long stone passage leading to the gates of Skyhold.

      Glancing back, the dragon is still on the bridge and it sniffs at the dead rabbits. But it doesn’t seem to care for rabbit soup as its attention turns to us. The growl from its throat is deep and bone-chilling. I see it move, but I’m running down the hill before I can see it come after us.

      Scouts stand on the fortress’ walls and I can tell they’ve spotted us.

      We wave to them as we run, trying to warn them, but they just smile and wave back.

      “Dragon!” yells Harding. But her voice is carried with the wind. “There’s a dragon behind us!”

      And to make matters worse, it seems as though the whole of Skyhold has come to greet us back. Just great.

      My inner circle stand at the gate, ready to see us and even the Chargers are clapping at us. They’re probably trying to cheer us up from the news about the Divine candidates. Cullen’s idea if I’m right. He stands there too, smiling at me.

      But as we get closer, he can see the deranged look on my face and his smile fades.   
      We reach the stone passage heading straight to Skyhold’s gates, but we’re at least another hundred metres from safety.

      Too much running.

      And that’s when I hear wing beats. Everyone’s faces turn to horror, eyes flicking to the sky. Then the war horn echoes through the mountains. Two long blows meaning danger.

      Cassandra glances back, her mouth opening into an _O_ before pulling Harding and I to the ground. I land on my stomach and the wind rushes out from my lunges.

      The stone passage shakes and fear claws at my stomach. This little passage isn’t as stable as the bridge we went across before and it’s higher up. It’ll be easier to break and we’ll fall from a higher height.

      I look back to see the dragon stalking towards us, green eyes glowing. 

      I lift my hand, the mark sparking to life. Focusing on the dragon, I pool all of my energy into trying to open a Rift.

      But Cassandra slaps my arm away, “Do not waste your energy. You know how dangerous opening Rifts are.”

      I swallow, “What do you propose we do then?”

      “Move!” yells Cassandra.

      We follow her order and we’re sprinting towards the gate, where everyone’s shitting their pants.

      A bolt of ice smashes into the stone in front of me and I spin out of the way, pulling a pocket knife from my vest and hurling it towards the dragon. The blade glances of the dragon’s scales and falls pathetically to the ground.

      That’s when Harding spins, arrow nocked on her bow. The tip of the arrow is on fire and she sends the arrow straight into the dragon’s face. It squeals in pain, backing away from us.

      I can hear Bull roar something about ‘Krem’s girl’.

      More arrows slam into the beast from the scouts on the battlements and the dragon takes off, sending gushes of wind towards us.                                                                   

      “We need to kill it!” I yell to the others.

      “No shit!” yells Sera.

      Rushing into Skyhold, I can see it’s in a state of panic.

      People are running around. Anyone who can fight is grabbing weapons and armour, while the people who can’t are being herded anywhere with cover.

      Harding has scouts standing around her and she’s gone into war mode, “I want archers positioned along the battlements. Hit it with everything you’ve got. If you run out of arrows, you’ll have the stable boys refilling them for you. Aim for the eyes, stomach and wings. We need to bring it down so the others can get a good slash at it.”

      The scouts nod and rush off to their stations. The fortress rumbles as the dragon flies overheard, its growl echoing through the walls.

      More ice forms along the stone bricks from the dragon’s attack.

      Dorian, Vivienne and Solas are hitting it with magic, while Sera and Varric are shooting it with bolts and arrows. And Leliana is shooting it from the top of the keep’s stairs.

      This is bad. We’re liked cows penned in a cage with nowhere to go. Cassandra and I stand awkwardly in the middle of the courtyard, waiting for the dragon to get close.

      “My last battle with a dragon wasn’t this boring,” mutters Cassandra. But her eyes are scanning the battlements.

      Bull’s bellowing insults at the dragon, but I can tell he’s having fun. At least someone is.

      Cole stands in the corner, “Stomach empty, eyes searching. Sleeping for a while, now awoken.”

      The dragon’s hungry and angry.

      Cassandra lifts her shield just as a bolt of ice rushes towards her. The shield holds fast and the Seeker doesn’t even flinch. She simply brushes the ice from her shield.

      The dragon screams again and I watch it fly past.

      Everyone is safely under cover with Leliana guarding the stables.

      Only arrows and the mage’s magic are able to hit the dragon.

      Glancing around, a plan begins to form in my mind.

      A stupid one. Last time I had a plan this stupid, Cassandra ended up with a piece of red Lyrium in her stomach.

      Cassandra’s eyes flick to mine, “Whatever you are thinking, do it. I trust you, Lydia.” She must have seen the doubt on my face.

      I bite my lip and nod, “We need more fire power. I hope you know how to use a bow.”

      She nods, yelling at a passing Inquisition troop to gather all the bows he can. Leaping up onto the stone stairs, I take a bow and a full quiver. Everyone looks at me for orders. I swallow, “Right. I’ve got a plan.”

      And so as the archers keep the dragon occupied, it takes me a whole 30 seconds to yell my plan to the Inquisition. The adrenaline rushes through my veins and I grip a bow in my hand, a full quiver attached to my belt. I just pray to the Maker that no one gets hurt.  

      The dragon thunders overhead, circling the castle as if trying to spot a good place to land. I see it fly off, swooping through the mountains. Good, it’s distracted. Maybe it decided those rabbits were an easy meal.

      Or just entrée.

      The Chargers line up at the end of the courtyard, standing ready with their weapons. Krem nods at me, his maul gripped tight in both hands. The soldiers are all in position and I see Cullen give me the thumbs up.

      Harding, Cassandra and I ready ourselves, arrows pointed to the sky.

      “It’s coming back,” yells a scout.

      “On my command only, do you fire,” I yell.

      We wait, eyes on the sky. I can hear wing beats and the dragon’s growl.

      “Steady,” I say. The whole of Skyhold is quiet, everyone holding their breaths and keeping their arrows ready.

      “Steady,” I urge.

      The wing beats are louder and the dragon comes into view, flying low over the hill the three of us just ran over.

      Some scouts shift nervously, but I hold my arrow, “Hold.”

      The dragon roars and I can see the rows of serrated teeth.

      If we need more fire power, what’s better than an attack coming from a hundred of us _at the same time_? Surely that would wound the dragon. And there’s nothing like good team work.

      Sera’s looking at me, waiting for my signal, while Solas has his eyes on the sky. The others do the same, standing close together.  

      “Hold!” I yell again.

      “Stumbles…” says Varric.

      It’s close now and when the dragon opens its mouth again, I can see the back of its throat turn blue. It’s about to shoot another blast of ice.

      The dragon closes in on us and the blue light in its throat brightens.

      “Now!” I yell. I release the arrows as everyone else does. A hundred arrows and bolts of magic fly through the air and hit the dragon at the same time.

      “Move!” bellows Bull.

      We all scramble for cover as the dragon tips, a desperate scream escaping its throat.

      It’s all a blur as people push and shove for cover. Somehow I make it off the stairway and I’m running along the courtyard towards the Chargers.

      I spin just in time to see the dragon slam into the courtyard, dirt and grass spraying everywhere. Something hits me in the arm, but I’m knocked over by the small shockwave that pulses across the courtyard.

      The dragon must have fallen with a lot of force.

      The dust settles quickly and I look up to see Harding sprawled across the ground next to me, Cassandra on my other side struggling to lift herself.

      I can feel blood dripping down my air and when I look at it, there’s a sharp, white _thing_ stuck in my skin. I blink back the tears, having no clue what it is.

      It’s shaped like a… like a…

      A tooth.

      A dragon’s tooth. How exactly it got stuck in my arm in another question entirely.

      Moving to grab the tooth, a gush of air whips the hair around my face and I see Cassandra instantly stop, hands curling into the soft earth beneath her. Harding’s head whips up, eyes wide, fingers inches from her bow.

      The Chargers were meant to come running in after the dragon’s fall to finish it off. But they didn’t make it far before they stopped, faces turning to horror.

      I may have an idea as to how the tooth became lodged in my arm.

      Slowly, I turn my head to see the dragon’s face hovering over us. Its back legs are twisted, wings bend, but it can still eat us if it wanted to. Which is probably does.  

      Cassandra sends me a look and I stay perfectly still, fingers moving back to my side. The tooth can stay in for now.

      Krem takes a step towards us, but the dragon hisses at him, protecting its prey. Krem tries again, but the dragon is persistent. It snaps at Krem, giving him a roar.

      “Damn it,” he shouts.

      No one moves around us, but Cullen’s eyes flick back and forth, trying to figure out a plan. Solas hits the dragon with a bolt of fire, but flicks its tail, sending people running for cover. The fire doesn’t seem to penetrate its hide.

      Maker, we’re stuffed.

      I can feel the dragon’s breath on my neck as a growl deep in the back of its throat rumbles across the courtyard.

      Harding is inching towards her bow, but mine snapped in half when the dragon crash landed. The dragon growls snapping at the dwarf in warning.

      Harding stops, a small whimper coming from her throat.

      The dragon cranes its neck, muzzle moving down Harding’s back, sniffing her. Her breathing is labored, eyes shut tight.

      The dragon’s mouth opens a fraction, revealing its maw of teeth. And I notice one of its front teeth is broken. Probably the one stuck in my arm. Its tongue flicks out to lick against Harding’s armour.

      Cassandra grunts in disgust, her hand firmly wrapped around my arm closest to her.

      The beast moves its head away from Harding, glancing around the courtyard to watch the others. It knows to keep an eye on them. Krem grips his maul tighter, eyes on Harding. He can’t get close enough to her.

      The dragon’s front talons tap against the earth, is if it’s sharpening them.

      It’s only then I see the arrow in Harding’s hand. She’s going to try and get the final blow. Her eyes meet with mine and I nod.

      Cassandra’s shoulders heave up and down, but she understands. She nods quickly.

      Hopefully Harding can get a good shot.

      The three of us were the ones to wake it up, we should be the ones to put it back to sleep, permanently.

      I roll onto my stomach and the dragon turns back to me, growling.

      Cassandra follows and the dragon doesn’t know who to focus on. Just not Harding.

      Cassandra’s arm slips into her shield’s straps, painstakingly slow so not to get the dragon’s attention.

      The dragon itself edges closer, using its front claws. I can smell its breath, like rotten fish and corpses.

      Wonderful.

      It opens its maw, green eyes on my.

      Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harding’s fingers wrap around her bow and she grips her final arrow for dear life.

      Her eyes flick to me just as the dragon’s jaws descend on me. Cassandra’s arm whips up, the shield protecting us from the dragon’s teeth. Harding leaps from her position, bringing the bow up to the dragon’s eye. The dragon lunges for Harding, forgetting about us. In a blink of an eye, the arrow flies from Harding’s bow and smashes into the dragon’s neck. The dragon’s jaws snap shut from the attack, inches from Harding’s face.  

      The beast doesn’t even have time to roar as the arrow tears through its throat. At point blank range, an arrow can do quite a lot of damage.

      But Harding’s pulling us from the dragon and it’s only when she tackles us to the ground that I understand why. The dragon’s whole neck explodes into a mess of scales and bone.

      “Andraste’s farts!” I scream as the disgusting matter falls back down to the ground. Cassandra grips the two of us in her hands, like she doesn’t want to lose us.

      When the Seeker is sure the dragon is dead, she gently pulls us to our feet. Her shield has teeth marks scraped into the metal and it’s bent where the dragon tried to tear the metal away. But other than that, we’re alright.

      Harding is staring at the dead dragon, her bow dropping from her hand.

      Skyhold is silent and when I look up, everyone is staring at us. And at the body of the dragon. Its warm blood trickles from its many wounds, staining the grass. And its head has been blown from its neck.

      Then I hear Bull’s laugh, “That was amazing boss! Do it again!”

      I give Bull a nervous laugh.

      “No thank you,” says Harding.

      I glance at my arm to see a piece of dragon brain on my skin.

      Cassandra sees it, “Don’t flick that on—”

      I scream in disgust and flick it away from me. Harding jumps as the piece hits her chest, but she quickly brushes it from her. The bloody piece of flesh lands on Cassandra’s arm and she cries in fright, sweeping the piece from her skin. It hits the ground with a slap.

      Sera bursts out in laughter, holding her stomach.

      I glance at the piece of flesh then to Harding, “It exploded.”

      “It did indeed, good eyes,” she says. But then she grins, “Black powder. Expensive stuff, but very useful.”

      “You’ve certainly made an artwork,” I say.

      Harding looks at the dragon, neck blown to pieces, body twisted and covered in blood, head lying a few metres from the body, “I think it’s one of my best.”

      “I really love how you separated the head from its neck. It’s very unique.”

      “And not to mention the colouring of the grass. Green and red certainly stand out.”

      “Who doesn’t love bloody grass?”

      Solas is staring out us like we’re a pair of weirdos and even Cassandra has no clue what to say.

      Harding and I just smirk at each other.  

      Josephine comes to stand next to Leliana, eyes wide, “So, if I may be so bold to ask: how did the dragon even get here? No one’s spotted a dragon for months.”

       I glance at Cassandra, “It just woke up.”

      “It _just_ woke up, did it?” asks Leliana.

      “Yep,” I say with a nod.

      Cassandra sighs, “We were… playing a game.”

      “A game?” asks Bull. “I like games. Especially when there are dragons involved.”

      I groan, “No… we were throwing rocks at the frozen lake—to see how far we could throw.”

      Everyone stares at us like we’re idiots. Which we probably are.

      “It was not my idea,” huffs Cassandra.

      “So, let me get this straight, you were playing games and it just so happened that there was a dragon under the lake?” says Leliana.

      “We didn’t know!” I argue.

      “Who won?” asks Sera.

      “Cassandra,” I say.

      “I bloody knew it!”

      “She was also the one to wake the dragon up.”

      “I was not,” she says, wrapping a hand over my mouth.

      Harding lets out a laugh, “I’d say it was the rock that woke the dragon up.”

      “Thank you, Lace,” says Cassandra. “It certainly wasn’t me.”

      I smirk, “It definitely wasn’t you who threw the rock, which then got stuck in the ice, which then cracked the lake, which woke up the dragon.”

      “Certainly not,” agrees Cassandra.

      Varric huffs, “Well, that’s a shame, because waking up a long sleeping dragon is kind of amazing.”

      Cassandra stiffens, “You think… that would be amazing?”

      “I’m sure Cassandra could wake Varric’s dragon if she wanted to,” I say to Harding.

      The lead scout lets out a bark of laughter.

      Cassandra glares at me then back to Varric, “Fine. I woke the dragon.”

      “Whoomp, there it is,” I say.

      “Yeah you did,” says Bull. “I’m sure you woke Varric’s _large_ dragon.”

      Cassandra covers her face with her hand, “Why must I be the one to suffer?”

      “Well you did sleep with him,” I say.

      Cassandra just groans.

      Bull pats the dragon’s head, hands moving over the white scales, “What a beast!” He turns to Krem, “Did you see that, Krem de la Crème? You’re girlfriend killed a dragon! She’s a keeper.”

      Krem smiles softly at Harding, “You were amazing.”

      Harding blushes, “Oh believe me, I think I had a heart attack.”

      “I think I did too,” I say.

      Cassandra smiles, “I didn’t.”

      “Well, you’re experienced in the whole dragon killing thing,” I say. “And you didn’t have a dragon breathing down your back.” I send a look at Harding.

      “Reminded me of the Rift-infected bear,” she says. “And that was so much fun. At least the dragon didn’t take a chunk out of my back.”

      I grimace, “That would have hurt a lot more than the bear.”

      “Most certainly,” nods Harding.

      Dorian waves a hand, “I think the dragon is starting to smell.”

      Bull grins, “We can use the scales for armour! And keep the head as a trophy.”

      Cassandra groans, “There would be no place to fit it.”

      “Ah, try the Great Hall,” I say.

      Bull grins, “I like your thinking, boss.”

      Josephine claps her hands, “We better get this mess cleaned up.”

      Everyone snaps from their day dream and they move off to their work. But I can tell everyone’s still in shock.

      A hand wraps around my arm, gentle and warm, “Lydia, you’re injured.”

      Cullen’s looking at the tooth embedded in my arm. He pulls a small cloth from his armour and cleans the blood dripping down my arm.

      Cassandra’s smiling at me, thin eyebrows raised in amusement. Even Harding’s trying not to beam at me. She winks at me and heads off to order her scouts.

      I lock eyes with Cullen and give him a smile, “Another scar to add to my collection.”

      “You’re still beautiful.”

      I can feel myself blushing and I give Cullen a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

      “Dorian can help heal it,” suggests Cullen.

      “I’m sure it will be fine,” I say, giving him another smile. My fingers wrap around the white tooth and I yank it from my arm. Grimacing in pain, I let out a gasp, “I should not have done that.”

      Cullen’s face falls, bringing the cloth to my arm. He takes the tooth from my hand and shakes his head, “You do have some silly ideas sometimes.”

      I laugh, “Yes, that’s the price I have to pay as the Inquisitor.”

      “Well, for what it’s worth. I like your boldness.”

     “And I really like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. Let's just say, I've been watching Jurassic Park (And Jurassic World) What's better than having a dragon breathing down your neck? Poor Harding. But yes, I hope you enjoyed, sorry for the slow update, but I should be back in the swing of things from now on!


	70. Chapter 69

Leliana and I stand in the warm Chantry in the small village of Valence. After receiving a letter from Divine Justinia, Leliana said that there is something hidden here that the Divine hid. The letter itself was given to the spymaster, something the Divine wanted her to have after her death.

      The Chantry is crowded with statues of many religious figures and fires burn in the braziers. It’s quiet, though. Almost too quiet for my liking.

      After our dragon fight yesterday, Skyhold’s been less than quiet and I must say, preparations for the Arbor Wilds are kicking into gear, too.

      At the end of the Chantry is a large marble statue of Andraste, arms crossed over her chest, robes cascading down her body. Candles surround the room in which she stands, the flames glowing off the shiny marble.

      Leliana kneels on one knee, bowing her head to Andraste. I do the same.

      We both straighten and Leliana nods, “It’s just as I remember it.”

      “You didn’t tell me you’d been here before,” I say.

      “After the Blight ended, I came here to see Justinia. She was just Dorothea then, a revered Mother.”

      A revered Mother—just like Mother Giselle. Hopefully she wasn’t as annoying. But the thought of the Divine twists my heart. Either Leliana or Cassandra are to be named the next Divine. I try to push the thought to the back of my mind.

      I focus on the Chantry, “It’s peaceful here. You must have good memories of this place.”

      “It was a place of comfort. It is good to see it’s still untouched by Corypheus.”

      A woman walks from the next room, dressed in red and white Chantry robes. Her hat covers most of her head, but I can see a young face.

      “Leliana? Is that you?” she asks.

      Leliana walks slowly towards the woman, “Sister Natalie? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Val Royeaux.”

      The Sister shakes her head, walking towards Leliana, “No, I’ve been here since Justinia died. This place makes me feel like… like she’s still with us.”

       The two embrace, Leliana smiling softly she holds Natalie’s head to her neck. But Leliana’s smile fades when she locks eyes with me. She gives me a quick shake of her head.

      She doesn’t trust the Sister?

      When they pull away, Leliana stands by me, “Inquisitor, this is Natalie, a trusted friend.”

      Not so trusted, I assume.

      “Wait!” starts Natalie. “‘Inquisitor’? You… you brought the Inquisitor here?” She bends down to one knee, “My Lady, forgive me for not recognizing you earlier.”

      I can’t help but smile, “You owe me twenty readings of the Canticle of Trials for that insult.”

      Natalie bows her head.

      “She doesn’t mean it,” says Leliana, a small smile on her lips.

      Natalie gives us both a shy smile before standing.

      “Natalie, listen. There is something hidden here. Something Justinia left for me,” says Leliana.

      “Oh, really? What is it?”

      “I don’t know, but we’ll find it. I’m curious to see what brought us all here.” Leliana looks around the Chantry. “Justinia’s letter came with instructions for me. They were a little cryptic.”

      She holds out the letter so I can read it, “ _Always remember that faith sprung from a barren branch_. _That light has no fear of darkness_. _Above all, that strength lives in an open heart_.”

      “She must be hinting at something in here. Let’s look around,” suggests Natalie. 

      I nod and begin moving my way around the Chantry, hoping to find something of use. The walls are lined with paintings and burning candles and the floor is covered in a blood red carpet leading the way to the statue of Andraste.

      “Do they still sing verses from the Benedictions every Friday? That canticle was Justinia’s favourite,” says Leliana.

      “Yes, of course. We’d never give up the traditions of our most beloved Divine,” says Natalie.

      “That is lovely to hear,” nods Leliana. She looks at me as they begin to walk slowly around the Chantry.

      Coming to stand in front of a painting, I examine it closely. The golden rose in the middle of the painting is surrounded with thorns. An old art piece, that’s for sure. The rose looks pretty barren, the artist choosing quite dull colours. Barren…

      I blink, “Barren branch.”

      Leliana walks up to me, examining the painting, “I think you are onto something, Inquisitor.”

      Scanning the wall, I spot a strange mechanism poking up just under the painting, “What’s that?”

      Leliana pulls the lever and something clicks. She looks at the glance then to me, “I was in the cloister in Lothering when the Blight began. There was a lot of fear back then. No one knew what was going to happen, whether we would live or die. And then, one morning, I found a single bloom on a dead rose bush and I thought ‘Even in the midst of all this, life finds a way. The Maker hasn’t abandoned us’.”

      I smile at that, “Then you met the Hero of Fereldan.”

      “Yes. And she saved us all. Come, let’s continue our search.”

      Natalie stays a few metres behind us as we walk into the next room.

      “I stare up at the Breach sometimes,” rambles Leliana. “It’s terrifying but beautiful in its way.”

      “It is beautiful,” agrees Natalie from behind us.

      “Have you seen it by sunrise?”

      “When the sun rises through it, it splits into what looks like a thousand suns like a broken mirror.”

      “Yes,” says Leliana. “Spectacular, isn’t it? You must be careful Natalie. Justinia’s enemies are making their move, vying for position and the Sunburst Throne.”

      I glance at Leliana when Natalie just nods. Old friends just having a chat.

      “Search the paintings,” I say. “They’re more likely to give us clues.”

      Leliana nods and we begin we scout around the round room. There are quite a few paintings lining the walls, so Leliana starts one way and I go the other.

      They’re weird pictures, that’s all I can say about them. But I try not to think about the weirdness of the place. It is a Chantry after all. I had spent half my life praying in one.

      Leliana waves me over, “I found another mechanism.” Glancing at the painting she stands in front, I can see a man slaying a woman, a spear through her chest. With a jolting shock, I realise it’s Maferath betraying Andraste. Maferath was Andraste’s husband and he had conspired with Tevinter to capture her. The Tevinter Imperium had burnt her at the stake.

      Leliana pulls the lever, “‘An open heart’. Well, that’s one’s quite literal. And morbid.” She chuckles softly. “But Justinia always said that compassion was my greatest strength. Doubt is easy. It takes courage to trust.”

      I nod, “Wise words, Leliana.”

      She smiles at me.

      “Come on, we’ve only got one more left to find. Light has no fear of darkness. What could that mean? None of the other paintings show light—or darkness.”

      Leliana chews her bottom lip, “Hm. Justinia would have kept it easy, like the other ones.”

      Light and darkness. The sun perhaps? Or the night? But there’s nothing in here suggesting sunlight or night.

      What makes darkness then? Corypheus? Or Coryphshit as Sera calls him.

      Ugh. This is too hard. Natalie just looks around the room as if actually trying to help, but I know she has no clue.

      Okay Lydia, try again. What makes light?

      Leliana’s staring at the candles around Andraste’s alter. And next to the alter is a large brazier with a fire burning in it.

      I leap towards the brazier and sure enough on the alter is a mechanism. I pull the lever and something underneath us clicks. Leliana nods in thanks.

      “What was that?” asks Natalie.

      “Looks like we opened something,” says Leliana. Another click fills the quiet Chantry and her head snaps to the picture of Andraste on the wall. The whole picture has been painted onto a wooden panels attached to the wall, like a closed door. And from the orange flames licking at Andraste’s legs, she’s getting burnt. The two Tevinter mages standing on each side of her tell me just as much.

      It truly was a sad deed. Andraste was betrayed by her lover and husband, Maferath and she was taken to the Tevinter Imperium where she was murdered brutally. By being burnt at the stake.

      I shiver as I remember the nightmares I had when my mother told me of Andraste’s fate.

      Leliana pulls the wooden panels, opening them to reveal a new artwork. This time Andraste stands regel and beautiful, blonde hair falling just below her breasts. The white robes she wears look silky and smooth. Two Chantry sisters stand beside her in the white and red robes.

      But when Leliana places a hand on the picture, the panel begins to rise. A hidden door in a Chantry. Scandalous.

      I pull Leliana back gently, to make sure nothing’s going to jump out at her.

      But what the hidden door reveals table pushed up against the wall of a very small room. Sitting on top of the table is a small golden urn.

      I blink in surprise. This wasn’t what I had in mind. Leliana turns from the room and storms straight towards Natalie.

      Leliana pushes the sister up against the alter, pulling a dagger from her sheath. She presses it against Natalie’s throat.

      “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Leliana snarls.

      I move towards the two, “Leliana, stop! What are you doing?”

      “I’m protecting us,” answers Leliana.

      This went to shit real fast. And I don’t even know what’s happening. Leliana didn’t seem to trust Natalie, but to hold her at knife point…

      She turns back to Natalie, “They never sing the Benedictions here on Fridays, Natalie. Something so simple and you got it so wrong. I wanted to believe, but you were lying from the start.”

      Natalie’s frightened face turns into a smirk, but she doesn’t speak.

      “Keep that pretty mouth shut if you must, dear,” says Leliana. You’ve already told me everything I need to know. The prickleweed burs on your hem, talking about the sun rising through the Breach. It all points to a single place: Morelle in the Dales. Grand Cleric Victoire’s Bastion. She sent you, didn’t she? Victoire was always an opportunist.”

      I swallow, “Who… who is this Grand Cleric? I’ve never heard of her.”

      Leliana glances at me, “An experienced cleric. She never agreed with Justinia but kept her ideas to herself.” Then to Natalie, “I suppose now, with Justinia dead, she thought she could make her move.”

      “What had she planned to do here?” I’m overwhelmed with confusing. But Leliana was right about the prickleweed burs on Natalie’s hem.

      “She sent Natalie here to see what Justinia was hiding, no?”

      “The Inquisition has turned Thedas away from the true Chantry. It must be stopped,” says Natalie, glaring at Leliana.

      “Stop us? You must be joking,” smirks Leliana.

      “Mother Victoire is well loved by many. The Inquisition has more enemies than you know,” spits Natalie.

      “And Victoire thinks she can ally with them?” asks Leliana.

      “We don’t have to be at odds, Natalie,” I plead. “You could come with us. Join the Inquisition.”

      “I was called to serve the Grand Cleric. I will not betray her,” she says. “Kill me then. I’m not afraid to die for my beliefs. At least I still know what I believe.”

      Leliana press the blade further into the sister’s skin. A dripple of blood runs down her throat.

      “Release her Leliana,” I urge. My voice is firm. “She is no threat.”

       “The Grand Cleric…” begins Leliana.

      “She is one woman. We are the Inquisition.”

      Leliana looks at me and I place a hand on her shoulder. She pushes away from Natalie, pulling the blade away, “The Inquisitor has spoken. Run. Tell your mistress that she was a choice. The Inquisition is coming.”

      Natalie nods, sending a glare at Leliana before leaving. I watch her walk towards the door, but Leliana turns to me.

      And she moves to the golden urn sitting atop the table and opens it. Her body stiffens, “No! This can’t be it. There’s nothing here!”

      I glance at the urn, “It’s… not what you expected. That doesn’t mean it’s nothing.” I try to sound hopeful.

      “There’s a message, carved into the lid. ‘The Left Hand should lay down her burden’. She… she’s releasing me.”

      A lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow it away. Leliana’s been freed.

      “The Divine has a long reach, but it is always her Left Hand that stretches out. A thousand lies. A thousand deaths. Her commands, but my conscience that bore the consequences.”

      I don’t think Leliana has told anyone about her thoughts on being the Left Hand—except maybe Josephine.   

      I remember something the Divine said, “She apologized in the Fade. She said she failed you. This is what she meant.”

      “All this time, Justinia carried the fear that she was using me, just like I’d been used in the past. But Marjolaine’s games were trifles.”

      Josephine had told me of Marjolaine. She was someone who Leliana trusted, but betrayed her. The Hero of Fereldan had helped Leliana get revenge.

      “Justinia gambled with the fate of nations,” says Leliana. “She needed me. No one else could’ve done what I did. She knows that.”

      “Then you have to let her go,” I say. “You don’t owe her anything anymore.”

      “If it were not for you, I would’ve killed Natalie and called it a good thing,” she whispers. She closes the urn and tucks it under her arm. She turns to me, “Thank you for showing me what was right when I couldn’t see it for myself.” She turns away from me, “There are things that must be said, but not here. Come, let us head back to Skyhold.”

 

+++

 

Josephine storms down the stairs towards Leliana and I.

      Leliana and I haven’t even spend two minutes in Skyhold and Josephine’s already on our backs.

      I smile at the ambassador, “Hello Josephine.”

      Josephine straightens her back, gripping her writing board. She nods her head at me, “Inquisitor.” And then she looks at Leliana, “Where have you been? Cullen and I have been worried sick. You’ve been gone for more than four hours. The celebration is about to start!”

      Leliana glances at me, “Our journey took a little longer than expected.”

      “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

      “No, Josie, we’re both fine.”

      Josephine breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank the Maker.” She takes Leliana’s hand in hers.

      I can’t help but smile at the two. But I try not to think about Leliana’s possible fate of becoming the Divine. There has to be something to keep them together.

      Leliana looks at me, “It would perhaps be best if you joined in on your own celebration. After all, it’s not every day you kill a dragon.”

      I wave a hand, “It was easy.” The two give me a look and I just grin, “Fine, fine. I’m going. Make sure you join in though. You guys have some of the best dance moves.”

      Josephine blushes.

      I head up the stairs and I can already hear the loud voices from behind the shut doors. Of course, Bull’s the loudest.

      I push the doors open to see the whole keep alive with laughter, food and mead. The first thing I notice though is the huge dragon head mounted on the wall, near the fireplace. Its mouth is open, teeth still sharp and white.

      Swallowing, I try not to think about the consequences if that fell on someone.

      Bull spins to me, “Boss! You’re finally back!” The crowd cheers and I can’t help but blush.

      Cullen lifts his drink towards me and winks.

      Bull slaps me on the back, “The dragon looks pretty great up there.”

      “Certainly. That’ll show Corypheus if he ever decides to walk in here.”

      He just grins and hands me a tankard of mead. I feel his strong arm wrap around my waist and he lifts me over his shoulder. I let out a shriek as Bull carries me across the Great Hall. When he plonks me down, most of my mead has sloshed out of the tankard. But I’m standing next to Harding and Cassandra.

      My best friends.

      I grin like a madman, “Well, I think it’s time to party!”

      Everyone cheers and soon the drinks are poured and the people are celebrating. Maryden sings on a stage, lute in hand, while some people dance around her.

      My inner circle sit around me, drinking merrily and chatting.

      Dinner moves quickly as everyone shoves down their food to then drink some more. Nothing beats roasted pork though.

      When the plates are cleared, Iron Bull gives me a grin.

      He clears his throat, “There is something we Chargers have to say.” His voice is loud enough for the whole hall to hear. He rises, climbing on top of the table. The hall quietens as Iron Bull claps his hands. The Chargers follow, Krem standing on the table beside Bull and the others standing on their chairs.

      Bull holds up his drink, “To the boss for bringing a dragon to Skyhold!”

      The Inquisition troops hoot.

      Krem motions for us to stand, so the three of us do.

      I nearly fall off my chair, but Cassandra holds me steady. And soon we’re standing on the table.

      Iron Bull bellows a laugh, “You’re not dead yet, you three, so here’s to a great and long life!”

      The three of us hold our drinks in the air and the others around us cheer.

      “And to all three of you finding love in this fucked up world.”

      Krem, Varric and Cullen hold their drinks even higher, hooting in agreement.

      “Well, I’d say you and Dorian have been enjoying yourselves as well,” I add.

      “I bit too well, I think,” says Harding. “I could hear you from the stables.”

      The hall erupts into laughter.

      Bull shoots a grin to Dorian. But he holds up his drink, “To the Inquisition! We’ll beat Corypheus!”

      I whoop in agreement and Cassandra’s smiling next to me.

      Someone grabs the back of my tunic and twists me to face them. But before I can even react, my lips press against theirs.

      Familiar lips. I smile into the kiss as Cullen wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the table. More cheers and wolf whistles fill the hall and it’s only when I pull away that I notice Harding locked in a kiss with Krem. Cassandra pulls from Varric’s own embrace.

      I look at the three men, “You three planned that, didn’t you?”

      “Well, we had to surprise you, didn’t we?” asks Varric.

      Cassandra’s blushing too much to even say anything.

      I laugh, “You certainly caught us off guard.”

      Bull wiggles his eyebrows, “Now, can we get back to celebrating?”

      “With pleasure,” says Harding. She grins at Krem.

     

+++

 

The sun had set hours ago, but we’re still partying hard.

      Bull and Sera are pulling people’s breeches down, while Dorian and Solas drink coffee together by the fireplace. Solas nods in greeting at me as I walk past. Smiling back at him, I continue on my way.

      Leliana sits at a table, hands clasped together as she watches the celebrations. Her drink sits untouched on the table and the golden urn sits next to it.

      “Josephine is positively beside herself. I had told her we’d be three hours at most. We were an hour late. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

      I smirk at her as I take a seat, “How have you been feeling?”

      “Good, wonderful. Valence was something of a rebirth for me,” she replies. “If you hadn’t been with me at Valence, I would have killed Natalie. I’d have told you that I didn’t have a choice, but there is always a choice.” She looks at the urn, “I am more than this. I am more than what Justinia made me.”

      I look at her, “Will you still be my spymaster?”

      “Of course,” she says. “I would not give up my post, not after everything we’ve built.”

      But her eyes betray her words and I can tell there’s a _but_ hidden on her tongue. But if she becomes the Divine, she’ll have to give up the post.

      “I just know now that I shouldn’t ignore my heart. Mercy is not always a weakness.”

      “For what it’s worth, you’ve exceeded her. She could never have imagined the power you now hold.”

      “And now I will know how to use that power wisely. I have to stay true to who I really am—before a spymaster, Left Hand, or Bard.” She glances at the urn again, “I almost lost myself.”

      “But we helped you find yourself,” I say.

      “And I thank you dearly, Lydia. Now, don’t you have some dancing to do?”

      “Only if you dance with Josephine.”

      Her eyes flick to someone behind me, “She’s eating.”

      “Have you eaten yet?”

      She hesitates, “No.”

      “Then go eat with her.”

      Leliana smiles, “I… I… alright.” She stands from her seat, “Thank you again, Inquisitor.”

      “It was my pleasure.”

      She moves off towards Josephine and I also move on.

      Harding’s twirling around on the stage to one of Maryden’s faster songs and I join in. I must admit, Harding’s pretty good at dancing. But then Bull decides to join in. He lifts to two of us up easily and spins around, Harding and I screaming like little children.

      Someone suggests a race and soon, Harding and I are bounding along opposite tables, racing each other to the end of the hall. People cheer for us and even Cassandra is screaming with delight. We have to leap over empty tankards, plates and bits of food as we run along the tables. But I’m beating Harding, so everything’s going to plan.

      My boot slips on a bowl of fruit that I didn’t dodge in time and I can feel myself beginning to lose balance. My momentum keeps me running, but my boot catches on a slice of pork and I’m going down.

      My body falls against the table with a thud, but my face lands in something soft and squishy. The hall turns silent and Harding laughs my name.

      When I lift my head, I can feel whatever I fell on stuck to my face. It smells awfully like chocolate.

      Cassandra bursts out into a fit of laughter, coming to stand beside me. Her head falls against my side as she continues to laugh.

      She grips my hand, “You just fell into chocolate cake.”

      I glance around the hall to see everyone staring at me in horror. Maker forbid the Inquisitor falls into a chocolate cake.

      But Harding’s rolling around on the table, laughing and I can’t help but laugh as well.

      My fingers touch the cake stuck to my face and I pull a bit off to taste it, “Mm. Yum.”

      Dorian looks at me, “Just get Cullen to lick it off for you.”

      “I’m sure I can take care of myself, Dorian,” I retort back. “You just focus on Bull’s licking.”

      Bull bellows a laugh, “The boss is right, Dorian.”

      “Then it may be high time that we retire,” suggests Dorian.

      “And when he means retire, he means not retiring,” I say. “If you know what I mean.” I wiggle my eyebrows at the two.

      Dorian just gives me a look.

      But I’m still not finished, “There’s chocolate cake here if you want to spice up your night.”

      “I’d say use it to spice up your night, Lydia,” says Dorian. “Cullen is still yet to have dessert.”

      “Well, I dare say, I’m the best dessert he’s ever going to get.”

      Cullen coughs, “Maker… I… I…”

      “Just take her to bed already,” yells Varric.

      I spin to him, “Oh. What’s that I hear? I think the next chapter of _Swords & Shields_ is ready to being reenacted. Cassandra can play the Knight-Captain.”

      “Ugh,” comes Cassandra’s reply. But she looks at Varric, a hopeful glint in her eye.

      Varric just stares back, “You’re kidding me. You don’t actually want to do that, do you?”

      I grin, “We did figure out that _Swords & Shields_ is a lot more accurate in people’s…”

      “Flexibility,” offers Harding.

      I click my fingers, “Yes. Flexibility. And if anyone’s flexible, it’s Cassandra.”

      “Maker’s tits, no way,” breathes Varric. But he winks at Cassandra and she blushes profusely.

      I scream in delight, wrapping an arm around Cassandra, “Make sure you make it comfortable. Lots of pillows.”

      “Ugh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that chapter was so long and cheesy. But I just had to write it, after all, the Arbor Wolds will begin in the next chapter! But yes, Leliana’s quest was one of my favourites in the game. And of course, who doesn’t love a chapter with every pairing in it? Stay groovy children.


	71. Chapter 70

The morning light spills through the floor to ceiling windows, filling the rom with warmth. Cullen’s arms wrap lazily around me and I place a kiss on his stomach. His body is a reassuring warmth to the fear beginning to pool in the pit of my stomach. Today is the day. It’s the day we strike.

      We’re going to the Arbor Wilds.

      My head rests against Cullen’s chest and I breathe in his scent.

      The celebration last night may have been because of the dragon we managed to defeat, but it was also our last night of fun before moving to the Arbor Wilds. I could tell the pressure was hanging over everyone’s head.

      Cullen kisses my shoulder, “We’d… better get up.”

      I sigh, “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?”

      “You don’t want to?”

      “It’s not that I don’t want to… it’s just I don’t know if I can fight him. I mean, you saw how band Haven went. I haven’t faced Corypheus face-to-face since then.”

      Cullen shifts under the furs and sits up, “Lydia. If anyone can destroy Corypheus, it’s you. You have so much determination and you’d do anything to bring peace to Thedas.”

      I close my eyes, “That’s because I was the one to start this all. If I hadn’t walked in when Corypheus was using that orb, the conclave wouldn’t have exploded. But it did. I killed all those people.”

      “Lydia, no,” he moves to wrap his arms around me. “The conclave wasn’t your fault. This is all Corypheus’ doing and we’re going to stop him. I’ll be by your side for all of it, I promise.”

      I nod into his neck, “I just want to right the wrong.”

      “And you will. I believe in you, the Maker believes in you. You have the whole Inquisition at your back and you’re a hero to Thedas. We will win.”

       I give him a soft smile, “Well, if the Commander believes we will, then who am I to judge.”

      He laughs, “Come on, let’s get some breakfast. We’ve got a long day—and night ahead of us.”

      The Great Hall is packed with people eating breakfast, but I spot Cassandra easily in the crowd.

      Coming to sit down next to her, she hands me a bowl of porridge, “Eat up, Lydia. You’ll need all the energy you can get.”

      “Yes mother, thank you.”

      She sends me another look, “Eat.”

      Everyone’s pretty quiet in the hall, each focusing on eating. Some look nervous, while others are filling their hide packs with essentials for the trip.

      I can feel Cassandra’s eyes on me, “We are ready, there’s nothing to be afraid of, Lydia. I trained half those soldiers myself. They’re capable of holding themselves.”

      Taking a small spoonful of porridge, I shake my head, “It’s not that. I know we’re ready. It’s just… what if something goes horribly wrong? I can’t lose you—or Harding, or Cullen, or…” my voice cracks.

      Cassandra smiles, “We will be fine Lydia. Do not worry. We’ve come this far, who’s to say we can’t go further?”

      I’m nodding at her words, “Fine. Just don’t die on me.”

      “I think you mean, I have to make sure _you_ don’t die on _me_ ,” she retorts. “The Arbor Wilds is renowned for many trees. Knowing you, you’ll trip over a root and break your neck.”

      “And I’m certainly not carrying you back to Cullen then,” says Dorian as he comes to sit down beside use.

      “Jeez, thanks for the support guys,” I say. “You’re both great friends.”

      “You’re very welcome,” says Dorian.

      Once breakfast is finished, my inner circle move off to get ready while I’m stuff packing the carriages and carts.

      Josephine ticks off certain items once their safely in the carriages.

      “Check. That’s the last of the shields. Ten crates full should be enough, I would think,” she says. “You’re free to go if you’d like, Inquisitor.”

      I stretch my back, “Thanks Josie.”

      “No thank you, after all, you lifted all the heavy things.”

      Laughing, I flex my arms. My muscles aren’t even as big as Cassandra’s, but dual wielding two blades certainly helps keep me strong.

      “I’d better go try on some armour,” says Josephine.

      “Armour? You’re not fighting are you?”

      “Andraste preserve me, no. Empress Celene and Briala are going to be in the Wilds though, so I’ll be there to speak to them. I just don’t want to get caught in my dress if the base is somehow overrun.”

      I nod, “Good idea. I’ll make sure I have guards posted around the base so that doesn’t happen.”

      “I appreciate it, Inquisitor.”

      Giving Josephine one last smile, I turn to finally pack some things myself.

      But Josephine grabs my arm, “Lydia?”

      My eyes met hers.

      “Thank you for stopping Leliana kill that Chantry sister. You’ve… shown her a new outlook to her life. She seems… different. But in a good way.”

      I can’t help but smile, “It’s the least I could have done, Josie. I’m glad to see she’s finally free from her ties to the Divine.”

      Josephine nods, “She’s… more open now. And I love her for that.”

      I beam at the ambassador, “And sure she loves you just as much.”

      Josephine’s blushing and I say goodbye before moving up to the keep.

      “Don’t forget the war room meeting this afternoon—just before we march,” comes Josephine’s voice.

      I wave my hand at her in acknowledgment, flashing her a smile.

 

.

.

.

 

Patting my black mare, I straighten the saddle on its back, “There we go, Apples. Much more comfortable.” My pack, full of essentials, is attached to the saddle, along with a spare blade if one of my others break and my bed roll is clipped onto the side of the saddle so we can easily make camp when needed.

      I pat Apples again and bring a handful of oats to her mouth. She gulps them down quickly, “See you soon, my friend.” And with that, I leave her in the stables for the boys to prepare her. She’s tacked and ready, but I’m sure they’ll want to give her a quick brush down before we leave.

      As I make my way across the bailey, I spot Harding sitting on the stone wall, stringing her bow. Autumn, the ginger cat we tried to tame, sits by her side, bathing in the sunlight. The cat seems at peace. Perhaps Cole has helped to tame it.

      Harding’s feet dangle above the ground, tapping against the stone wall and I can’t help but smile at the adorableness of it. But, I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell her.

      Her tongue is caught between her lips as she concentrates on the bow. I notice that her armour’s been shined and her golden hair is twisted into an intricate bun. She’s ready for action.

      With a quick glance away from her bow, she spots me and smiles.

      I wave her over and she slings her stringed bow over her back, jumping off the stone wall to come and walk beside me. Autumn jumps down from the wall and runs off to one of its hideaways.

      Harding nods at me, “Lydia, how are you feeling?”

      Giving her a smile, I shrug my shoulders, “As good as I can feel when we’re about to go to battle.”

      She swallows, “We’ll be fine, Lydia. You’ve built a great Inquisition.”

      “You’re too kind,” I say. “Let’s just hope Corypheus walks into the tip of my sword.”

      “I’m sure he’d do that if you asked him nicely.”

      “I’ll have to use manners,” I say with a weak smile.

      “Please may you walk into the tip of my sword? Thank you,” Harding says with a grin. But when she glances at my face, her expression falls and she stops walking, grabbing my arm, “Lydia? What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing,” I say, blinking. “I… I…” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I try again, “Harding, you’re my best scout and… and I know this is what you do best. My advisors and I have been talking strategies and they believe it’s the best option. I need you to move out first, with your group of scouts.”

      I can’t look at her. Sending her off into the Wilds with a small group of scouts is possibly the worse thing she’s had to do. Forget about all those times she’s had to make base at some remote location, like the Hissing Wastes, she would be going into the heart of enemy territory. Right into Corypheus’ hands. And she won’t have an army with her.

      “The main force… we’ll be an hour behind you. You’re the best to figure out where to set up base and what the terrain is like and…”

      Harding’s fingers wrap around my hand, “Lydia. You’re sending me to do my job?”

      I blink, “Yes, but you’ll be—”

      “Scouting ahead like I usually do? Hey, it’s my job to do that. I signed on to check out the dangerous places to make sure they’re not too dangerous.” She gives me a smile. “What you’re sending me to do… it’s great. I love what I do and who I do it with, so thank you Lydia.”

      I grip her hands, “Just be careful, Lace… I don’t want you walking straight into Corypheus’ hands.”

      She quirks her eyebrows, “I haven’t managed to do that yet, so I think I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing, Lydia.”

      I breath a sigh of relief, “You’re not mad?”

      “Why would I be?”

      “Well, I am sending you into hell.”

      “That’s true at least. But… you know… we’d serve the Inquisition anyway we can. And I know I’ll see you after an hour anyway.”

      Her smile gives me hope and I nod, “Don’t die. I don’t think I could deal having to tell Krem.”

      Her arms snake around my waist and she hugs me tightly, “I’ll be fine, Lydia. Don’t worry about me.”

      I squeeze her frame, “Thank you.”

      “Now, we better get some cake before I head off.”

      “That sounds like a plan,” I say.

      We head up the stairs to the keep, moving towards the kitchens.

      The keep is relatively silent today, as many people are packing or are relaxing at the tavern before our march.

      The hallways to the kitchen aren’t even as busy as usual. Cooks and servers have done their jobs for today—cooking meals for us to take to the Wilds.

      I grin at Harding, “Chocolate cake or caramel cake?”

      “Chocolate cake always,” she replies.                                                                          

      “I like your thinking.”

      Rounding the corner, we giggle at all the cake jokes we can make.

      But I fall silent when I hear something banging. Harding and I glance at each other before looking at the storage cupboard. The noise definitely came from there.

      When the wooden door flies open, I nearly pee myself. Harding lets out a startled gasp. And even better, Varric and Cassandra stop their movements when they spot us. Cassandra’s smile falls from her face and Varric is even backpedaling.

      They just came from that cupboard. Cassandra’s hair is messy, armour only half donned. And Varric’s tunic has its buttons undone, his hair sticking up in every which way.

      The four of us stare at one another for a few seconds before I clear my throat, “What were you doing in the cupboard?”

      I think I already know the answer though.

      “A bit of cleaning, Stumbles,” says Varric. Cassandra’s too embarrassed to even move. “You know how it is.”

      Harding and I share a glance and her eyebrow rises in a silent question.

      Then we bolt along the hallway and I scream, “Dorian!”

      “You little shits!” yells Varric.

      I glance behind me to see them both chasing after us. We burst into the Great Hall, empty save for the giant throne and the wooden tables and chairs. Everyone’s gone to the tavern. We continue running towards the tavern, with Cassandra hot on our heels.

      “Dorian!” I scream again, hoping to get his attention.

      We fly down the stairs and reach the courtyard. Bull and Dorian are standing outside the tavern, tankards in their hands, while the Chargers lazily practice with their weapons. Josephine writes something down on her writing board and Cullen dons the last piece of his armour.

      Leliana looks at Harding and I, rushing along the courtyard towards them.

      “Dorian!” I yell again. “They were in the cupboard!”

      “It was amazing,” screams Harding.

      The mage looks up at us in surprise, but a wicked grin spreads across his face. He knows what we mean.

      But of course a rock catches the tip of my boot and I jerk. My hand shoots out, grabbing onto Harding’s armour. But I’m falling. Curse me, I’m always falling.

      I try to steady myself, but my grip on Harding was too hard and she’s falling as well. We’re both somehow tripping and still running, but my luck runs out and I lose my balance. I crash to the ground with a thud, landing on my stomach. Harding falls beside me, sliding along the grass.

      Then I see Cassandra. Her face falls to horror and she tries to stop herself before she runs over us, but the grass is wet and her boot slides. I grab Harding’s arm.

      She leaps in a desperate hope to miss us. Her boot hits my shoulder—thankfully armoured—and her body tips. She lands on the ground in front of us, spread eagled.

      The onlookers stare at us in surprise and Josephine’s got her hand over her mouth in shock. Varric stops, looking at us in horror.

      But Cassandra’s head snaps up and she looks at me, “We were cleaning.”

      “Cleaning Varric’s mop, I suspect,” says Dorian.

      “Ugh.”

      I just lay in the grass, mostly because I can’t be bothered to get up. My face is buried in the grass, fingers tugging at the blades.

      Harding rolls onto her back, her side pressed against mine and she lets out a content sigh, “That was so worth it.”

      I laugh and I can feel my whole body shake, “That was brilliant.”

      Cassandra moves towards us, but instead of tackling me, she just rests her head against my back, the tension from her body easing away. She groans into my armour.

      “Feeling tired after your activities, are you?” I ask, resting my chin on my arm. “Cupboards. I never thought you’d choose them.”

      Cassandra sends me a look.

      “They’re quite small,” continues Harding with a mischievous smirk. “I would have thought you needed a lot of room.”

      Cassandra wraps an arm around Harding, “We get what we’re given.”

      “Well, you weren’t given a cupboard,” I say. “You were given a king sized bed.”

      Harding lets out a laugh.

      “That was a graceful fall, you had, Stumbles,” mutter Varric.

      “I brought Harding along for the ride, then Cassandra decided to join in too.”

      Varric just shakes his head with a laugh.

      Bull helps us to our feet and I dust myself off. Dorian and I high five, grinning from ear to ear.

      Soon we’re chatting amongst ourselves. Of course, Harding and I are hounding Cassandra for details of their cupboard session. Which the Seeker tells us with lots of detail. Who knew a cupboard could be used for the things they got up to.

      An hour goes quickly and soon Harding and her scouts are preparing to move out. I hug her one last time and put my lips to her ear, “Stay safe.”

      She pulls away and nods, mouth firm.

      Cassandra gives her a tight hug, “You will be fine Lace.”

      Harding and her scouts mount their horses and I see Krem give Harding a passionate kiss. I wave her goodbye as she and her trusted team ride from Skyhold.      

      Leliana pats my shoulder, “She’s a good scout, if anyone can find their way through the Arbor Wilds, it’s Harding. Come, we have a meeting in the war room.”

 

And so we stand in the war room, all dressed and ready for battle. Josephine even wears a light chest plate, along with silk trousers tucked into steel boots. She’s certainly ready for battle and the way Leliana keeps looking at her, I can tell the spymaster approves.

      Morrigan stands beside me.

      Leliana peels her eyes away from Josephine, “Firstly. Scout Harding and her team are already on their way to the Arbor Wilds. I’ve sent word to Empress Celene and the Dalish camp in the Exalted Plains. They’re reading themselves now and should reach the Wilds when we do.”

      I nod, “Good. We’ll need as many allies we can get.”

      “Secondly, with an Eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh?” She looks at Morrigan.

      Morrigan nods, “Indeed. The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them.”

      “What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?” asks Cullen.

      “Why, he will gain his heart’s desire and take the power of a god,” says Morrigan. She turns to me, “Or—and this is more likely—the lunatic will unleash forces that tear this world apart.”

      “I wouldn’t allow it. I can’t,” I say with a shake of my head.

      “Indeed. Should Corypheus succeed, do not doubt you would be first to feel his holy wrath.”

      “Pardon me, but… does this mean everything’s lost unless we get to the Eluvian before him?” asks Josephine.

      “Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves,” says Cullen. “We may have scouts on their way,” he sends me a look, “But they’ll already be too late.”

      “Josephine, you said the Empress has sent her best scouts? They’ll meet Harding there. When we arrive, they’ll have hopefully gained enough room for the bulk of the soldiers to then set up. We should be able to hold our own from there,” I say.

      Morrigan gives me a laugh, “Hm, such confidence. But the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old Elven magic lingers in those woods.”

      “We’d be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise,” says Josephine.

      “‘Tis why I came here, although it is good to see its value recognized,” smiles Morrigan.

      “Any further instructions, Lydia?” asks Cullen.

      I swallow, “The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers. Thanks to you, we’re now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god. I could ask for no finer council, no better guidance.” I give the three a smile. If this is all we’ve worked towards, I need to tell them how much they all mean to me. Who knows, this could go pear-shaped.

      Cullen smiles, “I speak for all of us when I answer: we could ask for no finer cause.”

      “We’ll hound Corypheus in the Wilds before he can find the temple of this ‘Eluvian’,” says Leliana.

      So, the battle begins.

      And I’ll be ready. Ready to finally bring down this threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I just had to put that cupboard seen in there! Bless their souls! But yes, next is the Arbor Wilds, so we'll have to see how that goes!! Stay groovy kids.


	72. Chapter 71

Cullen marches along the ruined stone parapet, sword in hand, lion helmet over his face. His furry cape covers his shoulders and drapes heavily down his back. And his armour matches the steel work on his helmet. I must admit, Cullen looks quite attractive when he’s ready for war. He looks down at his own soldiers as they march onwards, some holding Inquisition banners in their hands.

      Cassandra, Varric and Dorian ride beside me, also dressed ready for battle. Their armour glossed and clean. Cassandra glances at me from atop her own stallion and she sends me a reassuring smile.

      Morale is high amongst us all—I just hope we can keep it that way. The march has taken us the entire night, moving in the protection of darkness. The fire torches had shone bright throughout the march.

      We started getting resistance halfway through our journey. Red Templars and Venatori came out us from all angles, yet never in groups more than three, but they were frequent. Our archers could easily pick them off. We were moved to the middle of the group because apparently we ‘were too valuable to lose’. What’s the point of being Inquisitor if I can’t fight for the very cause I’m trying to stop? Though I guess dying before even getting to the battle is kind of stupid.

      But if we already had that many enemies attack us, how many more await us further into the Wilds.

      I grip my reins tighter as we begin riding—and marching for the poor fools who decided not to bring a horse—up a large hill.

      The Arbor Wilds themselves are quite beautiful and serene. Green trees spread every which way and the grass is a lot thicker here than in the Emerald Graves. I would have gotten lost if it weren’t for Leliana’s mapping agents.

      When we reach the top of a hill, I can see great clearing spreading away behind us. The clearing is surrounded by sharpened tree trunks, pointing out towards the forest. They’re barricades to hopefully intimidate enemies brave enough to try and attack. Inquisition banners fly in the wind and carriages are getting ready to be unloaded as the front of the group begin to trickle into the base. Tents have been set up at the back of the camp, with a large bon fire sitting in the middle of them. It is yet to be lit—so not to attract enemy attention.

      “Oh, must we stay in these tents?” asks Vivienne. “They’re rather dreary.”

      Sera sends her a look, “You could sleep outside then, yeah? Don’t think I’m sharing that tent with ya.”

      “My dear, you can sleep outside while I have the tent to myself.”

      “Beats being in there with you.”

      Vivienne gives me a look and I just smile, “Sera, you can share with whoever you want. Just not Vivienne. I don’t think anyone would get any sleep with you two together. You’d be kicking and screaming all night.”

      Sera grins, “Yes! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

      Speaking of sleep, we all tried sleeping in the saddles, but with the Venatori attacking and the faraway screeches of giant spiders and other creatures of the night, I didn’t get much sleep at all. Which is kind of dangerous, considering we’re about to go to battle.

      But Dorian produced a little spell that gave us some energy, so I’m running on that right now.

      The sun has risen above the horizon and if I’m right, it must be at least eight in the morning. We’ll have plenty of sunlight to fight.

      I see scouts rushing around the clearing, beginning the rest of the preparations for the fight. They greet us and we dismount, allowing them to take away our horses. I glance around the busy clearing. We should have everything set up within the hour and Cullen’s sent soldiers further into the Arbor Wilds to begin the fighting. But the bulk of the army is here with me.

      Birds fly overhead, squawking in shrill voices.

      I tighten the leather strap of my sheath, holding my two blades and wave my team over. We begin walking towards the edge of the base—towards the fighting.

      “Inquisitor,” says a soldier. She bows to me, then straightens, hands running down the front of her armour.

      “Any news of the fighting?” I ask.

      “They’re holding—what little amount of soldiers we have out there are doing a damn good job. But, the red Templars are fighting harder than ever with their master nearby. We’ll send some more soldiers out any minute now to help.”

      I nod, “And the base?”

      “Secure. We’ll have everything set up soon and then we’ll have the whole force out there.”

      “Good.”

      “But, Inquisitor. Our scouts saw Corypheus travelling toward an Elven ruin to the north. We can clear a path through is armies.”

       “Do only what you must. We need enough people for a celebration when we get back to Skyhold,” I say.

      She places a fisted hand on her chest in salute and a small smile crosses her lips, “We will not fail you, my Lady. No matter what comes.” She bows again, “Andraste guide you, Inquisitor.” She turns on her heel.

      “Captain?”

      She looks back, “Yes?”

      “Scout Harding? Is she alright?”

      “She’s on watch now at the front of the camp. She certainly knows how to hold her own. I saw her take down three red Templars in only two shots. And it was her plan to burn the nearest Venatori camps. They have no choice but to flee further into the Wilds.”

      “That’s my girl.” I nod at the Captain to take her leave.

      Morrigan walks up to me, staff on her back, hair tied into a messy bun. And her armour… well, her leather pants will certainly give her some protection, but the two pieces of fabric covering her breasts won’t. She wears a purple scarf-like top that covers some of her skin, but she certainly isn’t self-conscious. And the chunky golden necklace around her neck may save her from an attack and I doubt the feathers on the leather sleeve covering her left arm will be much use.

      I swallow, trying to not think about how cold she must be. We may be away from the snow, but the morning air is still a little chilly.

      She watches the Captain leave, “I wonder: is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?”

      I frown, “They show me respect, Morrigan. No one mistakes me for the Maker.”

      “True. You are far more likely to come to their aid than a Chantry fable… but I digress. If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal.”

      “Which is?”

      “A place of worship out of Elven legend. If Corypheus seeks it, then the Eluvian he covets lies within.”

      Three explosions ring out across the clearing and I jump at the sudden noise. Spinning, I can see the two ballistae firing into the depths of the forest. The weapons project large spears coated in black powder to not only skewer an opponent, but to also blow up on impact.

      Nasty, but it keeps us safe.

      “Let’s hope we reach the temple _before_ the entire forest is reduced to ash,” comments Morrigan. She nods and takes her leave.

      I glance around the clearing. Everyone’s settled in by now and are reading themselves for battle.

      Then I spot Josephine standing in the middle of the camp, chest plate still donned, with Empress Celene next to her. The Empress’ personal guards stand a couple of metres away from her, weapons in hands.

      When the Empress spots me, she waves me over and I comply.

      Josephine smiles, “Inquisitor. I hear this ‘Eluvian’ lies in a temple nearby. That’s where the fighting will be worst. Andraste keep you safe.”

      I smile, “And you too, Josephine. You look very cool in that armour.”

      She blushes, “Oh, you’re too kind, Lydia.”

      Varric smirks, “How are you holding up, Ruffles? The armour can get quite heavy.”

      Josephine shrugs, “Oh, it feels fine for now. But I’m sure I won’t be able to feel my shoulders by the end of the day.”

      Varric chuckles, “You get used to it.”

      The Empress nods her head at me, “We are gladdened to see you, Herald. This day will be recalled for ages. We are privileged to witness the fulfilment of the Inquisition’s purpose.

      “The sight of our Orlesian allies risking their lives here humbles me,” I say. The words are quite weird in my throat, yet I must act posh with the Empress here.

      “Your worthy cause would have friends, even if we did not will it,” replies the Empress. “The men and women of faith serve you. Their favor is no less than our own. Their service no less dear. With Orlais at your side, we will see you victorious against Corypheus. May you walk in the Light.” She smiles at my companions behind me.

      I give the two my best wishes and move off. Harding’s done a pretty good job with the base. The area is massive, not to mention the defenses are well placed.

      The Captain that greeted me when I arrive runs up towards us, “Inquisitor. The battle is well under way and the fighting is thick. Commander Cullen and Sister Leliana are already out there. It would be best for you to be there helping them.”

      I swallow, “They’re out there already?”

      “Yes, the Commander wanted to give you as much help as possible to reach the temple.”

      “Alright, I’ll get my group ready then.”

      The Captain nods, “Good luck.”

      Ordering one of the soldiers to gather my inner circle, I head towards the large wooden table placed to the left of the camp.

      Where I do all of my ordering.

      Cassandra, Dorian and Varric follow me, watching the edge of the camp for any danger.

      When I reach the table, I notice someone sitting on the log next to it, back turned to us. Her golden hair is up in an intricate bun, bow slung lazily over her shoulder.

      I grin, “Harding!”

      She spins, a piece of bread halfway to her lips, but she forgets about it when she sees us. I wrap my arms around her small frame, “How’d it go?”                                    

      “Great!” she says, pulling away. She gives Cassandra a quick hug, “We got here just before dawn. The fighting’s already begun though.”

      I nod, “Cullen’s out there already.” My gut twists. I just hope he’s alright.

      “His a great fighter. If anyone can hold off the Templars and Venatori, it’s him,” she says. “I know he’ll do well.”

      I smile, “I hope so, Harding. But, how was your watch, not too taxing I hope?”

      “Well, not if you count that I’ve only had a few hours of sleep.”

      “Let’s not count that.”

      “Pretty good then,” she says with a wink. “Now, what do you plan on doing? Are we going head on or are we sneaking up on the bulk of the force?”

      “Firstly Lace, eat your breakfast,” orders Cassandra. “You’ll need the energy.”

      Harding just looks at her piece of bread.

      “That looks really nice,” I say. “That _lovely_ staleness to the crust really enhances the flavor.”

      “If you hold your breath, you forget how stale it is,” says Harding. “But it’s truly an adventure eating it.”

      Cassandra just looks at us, “You two are strange.”

      “Have you ever thought you’re the weird one?” I ask.

      “Never.”

      My inner circle arrive altogether, with the Chargers as well. Good, I’ll need as many people for this as I can get. We fan out around the large map of the Arbor Wilds weighed to the table with some of Josephine’s scented candles. Jasmine, if I’m correct. She says it relaxes the body.

      I clear my throat, “I have a plan for this attack. I’m not letting us rush into battle without a plan.”

      “Great idea boss,” says Bull. “Though if you said ‘kill very red Templar you see’, I’m sure that’s a good enough plan as well.”

      “Yes, well. That’s part of the plan.”

      “Yes!” rumbles Bull. “Good thinking.”

      We all stare at him before returning our gazes back to the map.

      “So,” I continue. “Cullen’s soldiers are clearing a path right through the middle of the fight for us. That’s where we’ll be. Cassandra, Dorian, Varric and Morrigan, there will still be fighting, so stay on alert. And no, Varric, there are no cupboards in the Wilds to whisk Cassandra off to, I’m afraid.”

      Cassandra jerks at the mention of their little activity, “I… I would never _run_ off in the middle of a battle.”

      Varric coughs, “You’ve caught me, Stumbles. Here I was hoping to have a conveniently placed cupboard in the middle of the Wilds for us to use. Now I’m disappointed.”

      “Use the tents,” says Sera. “They’re sound proof.” But her giggling tells me they’re anything but sound proof.

      “Ugh, Lydia, get on with it,” says Cassandra.

      “Iron Bull, I’ll need you, half of my inner circle and the Chargers to sneak up on the left side of the force. Yes, that means killing every red Templar and Venatori you can see.”

      “Now we’re talking,” yells Bull.

      Krem looks at me, “I’m sure we can do that, Inquisitor.”

      “Just make sure Bull doesn’t get too out of control. I’ll need him after the battle,” says Dorian.

      “Oh?” I ask.

      “Just not near my tent,” snaps Cassandra.

      “Right, yes,” I say. “We can talk about that after. Head Scout Lieutenant Inquisition Harding Lace,” I say.

      “Close, but you still can’t get my name right,” she says, hardly fazed.

      I grin, “I know. I can never get it right.”

      “Don’t worry, I’m sure Krem gets it confused with he’s screaming your name as well,” says Varric.

      Harding goes completely red, “No, he’s actually pretty good at remembering my name.”

      “That a boy,” yells Bull, clapping him on the shoulder. Krem just stares at the map in shock.

       I look at Varric, “And you can remember Cassandra’s full name?”

      “He doesn’t last long enough to yell it all out,” says Cassandra with a smirk.

      I cough, “That’s unfortunate.”

      “Seeker, just go stand over there,” says Varric, pointing to the edge of the base. “Dwarves have a lot of stamina, thank you very much.”

      Cassandra looks at Harding, “Is that true?”

      “Well, it may be true…”

      I clear my throat, “As I said before, we can sort that out once the battle has been fought.”

      “Yes, I agree,” says Vivienne.

      Solas nods, “Go on, Lydia.”

      “Harding. Whether or not you have a lot of stamina, I’ll need you, your scouts and the rest of my inner circle to move up the right side of the forest, also killing every Venatori and red Templar you see. You’re scouts did a great job burning their camps, so hopefully you’ll get the ones fleeing the fires.”

      Harding nods, “I’m sure I can do that, Herald of Lydia, Inquisitor Andraste.”

      I blink, “Wow, that was pretty good.”

      “Thank you. I had to think about it for a second,” she says.

      “Children,” mutters Cassandra.

      “And lastly, we’ll meet at the temple with Cullen and Leliana. They’ll explain what to do next,” I say. Glancing at everyone, I nod, “We’ve got this. Let’s move out.”

      Everyone splits off into their teams, weapons and armour ready.

      My team move towards the edge of the camp.

      “Listen to how close the fighting’s gotten. It will be worse ahead,” says Cassandra. “Are you ready, Lydia?”

      “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say. Glancing behind me, I take in my friends.

      Dorian is dressed in his best robes, navy blue fabric peeking out from the leather armour draped around his torso. Varric is dressed in a long-sleeved tunic with steel plaudrons protecting his shoulders and a chest plate to cover up that chest hair that may seduce the red Templars. And Cassandra… well, she’s got her shield strapped to her arm—a nearly forged one since the dragon ran its talons through it and her armour is the same old. The white Seeker symbol is painted on the piece of material covering her chest plate, while her arms and legs are covered in steel. Her gloved hands are clenched at her side, ready to react to anything. Morrigan… well, she wears little in the way of protection.

      I smile at my team, “Are you guys ready?”  

      “Stumbles, I’m always ready with you leading us,” smiles Varric.

      “I even combed my moustache for this,” says Dorian. “You’re very lucky indeed.”

      “I wouldn’t want to fight beside anyone else,” says Cassandra.

      My stomach warms at their words, and I remember one of Sera’s names, “Then let’s go kill us a Coryphy-dick.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're in the Arbor Wilds! Yay! And who doesn't love a little bickering between them all!! I think I'll cut out a lot of the fighting from this quest, but all the awesome bits will be present!! Stay groovy!


	73. Chapter 72

Reaching the end of a large rock tunnel, we’re certainly in the thick of the fighting now. Thick trees surround us, easy for ambushes and traps. But we push on. We have to.

      A multi-coloured bird squawks and takes off overhead.

      Hopefully my two other teams are moving through the foliage as easy as we are. Iron Bull could probably smash his way through, while Harding’s small enough to just slip past any branches.

      It’s only then that we round a corner and behold a large waterfall to the right of us. The water’s spray hits my face and I have to wipe it away to see properly. Old stone walkways thrust up from the small lake surrounding the waterfall, yet they’re mostly crumbled and unstable.

      Yet I can see red Templars walking along them, patrolling.

      I nod at Varric and he moves ahead of us.

      His footsteps are masked by the rushing of the waterfall, thank the Maker.

      And when he sends a bolt through the first red Templar’s throat, the other three don’t hear the splash when he falls off the walkway, body bobbing in the water.

      We move closer, pressed up against the foliage so the other Templars don’t spot us. They’re standing in the water, backs turned to us, which is lucky on our part.

      Cassandra and I are only a few metres behind one of the Templars, but we’re almost waist deep in water. It’ll slow us down, but also slow them down. I send the two mages a look. Dorian and Morrigan nod, sending bolts of ice towards the other two Templars.

      I jump from my hiding spot, sending my blades towards the unsuspecting Templar. Water splashing up everywhere and I miss my first slash. But the Templar is caught off guard, spinning around too slowly in the water. My next attack doesn’t miss. My blades crunch through the Templar’s armour, setting him off balance while Cassandra slams her shield into his face, sending his nose into the back of his head.

      I look away as his limp body falls to the ground. That’s what you get for not wearing a helmet. The other two Templars have multiple ice shards sticking out from their armour. A nice change from the red Lyrium.

      But then I notice that one wears blue and silver armour, with a griffon etching into his chest plate, “He was a Grey Warden. He must be the last of those enslaved at Adamant.”

      “Hopefully _he_ was the last,” says Cassandra.

      I nod, “Let’s keep moving.”

      The red fungus here grows bright and really big. And it stinks, like Bull’s feet after a day in the Western Approach. I can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it before.

      “Hm,” says Dorian, “This may be good for my hair.”

      He goes to touch the fungus, Cassandra grabs his arm and yanks it, “No! That’s poisonous!” Dorian and I jump away, my arms wrapping around Cassandra. She carries me away, “You just have to touch everything you see, don’t you?”

      “Well, when I see something I want, I just have to have it,” says Dorian.

      “Like Iron Bull?” I ask.

      “Yes, but at least I know he’s not poisonous,” snaps Dorian. “Come, let us move from this foul plant.”

      I don’t let go of Cassandra until we’re well away from the cluster of fungus.

      Morrigan just shakes her head, with a small smirk on her face, “Perhaps it would be best not to touch any of the flora here.”

      Moving further into the Wilds, we keep our weapons out and ready for any attack. Moss grows on the vines draped along the path, hanging metres from our heads. For a forest ravaged with death and fighting, it is still beautiful.

      Inquisition troops and the Empress’ soldiers fight a mob of Venatori and red Templars in a shallow river.

      “For the Inquisitor!” yells a soldier.

      They struggle against the onslaught of enemies and we rush in to help them. My blades twirl, with Cassandra beside me, smashing through anyone trying to attack her. Morrigan, Dorian and Varric stay at the river’s edge, shooting their targets. But we work well like that. Cassandra and I are the distraction. The dummies if you will—so while the Venatori and red Templars are focused on us, the other three can take them out from the outskirts.

      “For Haven and the Divine,” comes another yells from an Inquisitor soldier.

      I hear Cassandra grunt as the butt of a sword hits her cheek. Her head snaps back, arms covering her face to protect her. She’s not wearing a helmet either, but then she never has. The image of the red Templar’s nose being driven back into his head haunts me. I can’t let that happen to her, not when she’s dazed from the first attack.

      Holding a hand out, I keep her from falling, but the Venatori who attacked her bears down on us, sword held above his head. Cassandra growls, but she’s still disoriented. My fingers wrap around a pocket knife from the belt across my chest. But I don’t need to use it when a steel bolt flies into the Venatori’s eye slit.

      I let out a squeal when the man’s eye bursts from his helmet.

      “No one hurts my Princess without living,” comes Varric’s voice.

      I grin at Cassandra, but she just rolls her eyes. Though I do see a small smile on her lips. A red Templar runs towards me, but I flick the pocket knife in my hand and the flat of the blade hits the Templar in the chest, bouncing to the ground.

      The Templar stops in shock at how pathetic the attack was. But I just smile.

      He doesn’t see Cassandra’s blade in time as it tears through his chest.

      When he falls to the ground, Cassandra pulls the sword from his body, “Maker take you.” It’s soft, but she looks at me, “There’s more fighting further along the river.”

      “But Princess? That’s what he calls you?”

      “It’s much quicker to say then my full name,” says Cassandra. “He can last long enough to say that.”

      Her smirk makes me laugh, “I don’t have a long name, so Cullen’s got it easy.”

      “Herald of Andraste. Inquisitor Lydia Trevelyan. Stumbles… you have more names than me,” says Cassandra.

      “Yeah, but he’s only got to say Lydia Trevelyan if he wants. You on the other hand…”

      “I’ll be sure to name my child with less names.”

      “What? You’re going to have a child?” I ask, squealing.

      Cassandra turns on me, covering my mouth with her hand. Varric and the others are too busy talking to the soldiers to hear my yelling. She glares at me, “No! Maker preserve me, no! It was an _if_.”

      “Oh,” I say. “I thought you were trying to tell me something. But still… an _if_ is a pretty good chance.”

      She just shoves me.

      An Inquisition soldier walks over and Cassandra sends me a warning look. He nods at me, “Inquisitor, my team have taken out a red Templar camp. We’re in the process of destroying them all.”

      “Good work soldier, keep this part of the river clear,” I order. “I don’t want anything sneaking up on us.”

      “Yes ma’am. Good luck.”

      “We’ll need it,” I say.

      He just shakes his head, “You’ve made it this fine, Inquisitor.” He rounds up his men, “Go quickly. May the Maker guide you.”

      “And you,” I say. Waving to my own team, I smile at them, “Let’s go.”

      And so with a final thank you to the soldiers, we head up the river.

      There are groups fighting along the river banks, shrouded with trees. They’re putting up a great fight and I can tell they’ve got the upper hand.

      It makes me proud to think how far we’ve come. If this was Haven, no one would be fighting as well and they certainly wouldn’t be fighting with the amount of trust they place on their comrades now.

      Not only have I grown closer to my inner circle, but the soldiers under the Inquisition have formed friendships to last a lifetime with their own circles.  

      But still, if I just watch them fight all day, their efforts will be in vain if Corypheus reaches the temple first.

      “Let’s haul ass. I want to get to this temple quickly.”

      Morrigan nods, “They pathed us a way to the temple. We must not waste it.”

      We run ankle deep in water as we make our way along the river.

      It’s only when we deviate from the river and back into the heart of the forest, that I hear a roar.

      I can see Inquisition archers standing on ruined archways, firing at something below them. There’s a small slope in front of us that leads to their target, but I can see it from here. The monster has red spikes sticking out from its back, a massive left arm dragging along the ground at its side. And the helmet too small for its massive head… that roar…

      My breathing quickens, heart hammering against my rib cage. A red Templar behemoth. The same thing that nearly killed Cassandra.

      She looks at me, “We can do this, Lydia.” She does hesitate though and I can see the fear in her eyes when she eyes the thing.

      Her wound runs deeper than skin. She doesn’t want to face it.

      I step forward, “Archers!” The scouts on the archways look at me, halting their attacks. Continuing, I move closer, “Aim for its legs and arms. Cassandra and I will move in once it’s down. But, if there’s a clear shot at the back of its neck, take it.”

      They nod and begin firing again.

      “We will not rest until this bastard falls,” yells a scout.

      Morrigan, Varric and Dorian follow my orders as well, sending an onslaught of ranged attacks towards the behemoth.

      The monster’s hard, red skin glints in the sunlight as arrows and bolts of magic rain down on it. One arrow lodges itself in the behemoth’s knee cap and it stumbles around.

      Cassandra grips her shield tightly, keeping it up to protect her torso. Even when we’re still metres away from it.

      The behemoth raises a hand and spikes of red Lyrium burst from the ground. Cassandra and I scramble backwards, but luckily the Lyrium doesn’t reach us. We both share a glance, but Cassandra’s determined as ever to kill this beast. The fire is back in her eyes.

      That’s the Seeker I’m used to.  

      The behemoth just isn’t going down.

      We have to bring it down with more fire power like… like the dragon.

      “Archers! On my count, fire at the same time.”

      They all understand in a heartbeat, each nocking their bows and holding.

      Dorian nods at me, “If you get trapped under it like you did the dragon, I’m not rescuing you.”

      I just grin at him.

      The behemoth turns to Cassandra and I, but I let it come.

      Cassandra has her shield ready, protecting the both of us.

      “Hold!” I yell.

      The monster takes a rumbling step towards us, arms rising again. It’s going to try and summon more spikes of red Lyrium.

      Well not this time.

      “Fire!”

      With 20 different attacks at the same time, the behemoth forgets about raising the red Lyrium. Instead, it stumbles as more arrows get lodged into its joints. Shards of ice smash into its shoulders, destroying the sockets.

      Its massive arm falls to the ground with a thud, its right arm following soon after. The monster roars in pain.

      Cassandra rushes forward and I’m a split second behind her.

      The behemoth falls to its knees, unable to do anything but growl.

      Cassandra uses one of the behemoth’s fallen arms to leap from, propelling herself onto the monster’s shoulder. She holds out a hand and lifts me up in one strong tug.

      We look at each other, hands wrapped around the hilts of our weapons.

      “Ready?” she asks.

      “Ready.”

      And together we plunge our blades into the behemoth’s neck. It screams in pain as it tips forward, Cassandra and I rolling away before it hits the ground. We come to a halt next to each other and spin in time to see the monster’s face smash into the ground, a satisfying crunch ripping across the forest as its nose breaks.

      I clap Cassandra on the back, “You did it.”

      “We did it,” she breathes.

      Varric swings Bianca over his shoulder, “Well done Seeker.”

      “Thank you Varric,” says Cassandra, sending a smile towards him.

      “This may mean a drink once we’re done,” says Dorian. “For Cassandra defeating her demons. Now that’s something.” He grins at the Seeker.

      “I do believe we have a temple to find,” urges Cassandra, flushing at the attention.

      “Yes, that is very true,” I say. “We’ll have a drink after.”

      “I would like that.”

 

+++

 

A scream rips across the forest and I stop in my tracks. It was Harding.

      Then a roar reverberates through the trees.

      Cassandra pushes me forwards and we’re running through the trees, blind. But when we rush into a clearing, water splashes at my ankles. In front of us are a battalion of red Templars and Venatori. With my inner circle and the Chargers fighting for their lives, scattered around the clearing.

      Dorian sends a gust of snow towards the group, pinpointing some of the enemies, but they just keep fighting.

      Some Inquisition scouts float face down in the water.

      “Lydia!” yells Cullen. “Press on! We’ll hold them off!”

      No.

      They’re all going to die if we don’t help.

      A red Templar holds Sera’s head in the water, trying to drown her. Vivienne stabs him with the end of her staff, but she’s soon out numbered. And their armour is broken, hardly able to protect them.

      Bull swings his maul at a group of Venatori, smashing them down. But for every one they kill, another two enemies take their place. Krem tries to keep them off Bull, but he and the rest of the Chargers are caught in the middle of a circle of red Templar horrors.

      Solas and Blackwall work together, swinging sword and staff together, but their attacks are in vain. Blackwall can’t keep them off Solas for long and Solas is struggling to keep his attacks up. I can see the strain on his face.

      Cole fades in and out of memory, trying to help everyone where he can, but there’s only one of him.

      Leliana tries to keep her own battle at the edge of the group, but she’s overwhelmed by Venatori. She has a bloody arm and her quiver is running dangerously low.

      Harding’s pinned against at large boulder, Venatori driving their fists into her stomach. Blood drizzles down from the corner of her lip and a single tear rounds down her cheek. They’re not killing not straight away, but they know she’s defeated.

      And Cullen. His lion helmet lies broken in the water and the blood dripping from his forehead blocks his vision. Red Templars smash their shields against him, battering him. Breaking him.

      They’ve made a mistake hurting my friends.

      I’m running towards the group without even realizing it. The power is surging through me without so much as a thought.

      I hear Cassandra call my name, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop, not when my friend’s lives are on the line.

      The mark on my hand explodes to life, the water’s rippling surface reflecting green. I throw my hand into the air, a scream of fury escaping my lips.

      And a tendril of green shoots from my palm and explodes into a Rift.

      The fighting ceases for a second as everyone turns to look at me.

      Thick green ropes whip out from the Rift, wrapping around every single enemy. Every Venatori and red Templar who threaten to kill my friends.

      I can hear their screams when they’re hauled violently into the Rift. But I’m on my knees. I can’t see anything. My vision is black, my fingers numb.

      The Rift pops when it closes but there isn’t silence that follows.

      I can hear screaming, a single female screaming. She doesn’t stop. I don’t know who it is. The temple and my friends disappear and I’m standing in darkness.

      Then the sky rips open, the Fade swallowing the world. Breaches open everywhere, Rifts spewing monsters from their maws. Spiders scuttle from dark places, moving over the landscape with their disgusting legs— big, black and hairy.

      And in front of me is a pile of bodies. The bodies of my friends, my family, my lover.

      Dead.

      Cassandra’s lifeless eyes stare at me, red from the Lyrium they injected into her. A Cullen… he has become a red Templar himself. Something he swore he’d never become. Josephine’s dress is ripped, blood dripping from the wound in her stomach.

      “Please…” I beg. “No. Stop it.”

      I’m clawing at the mark on my hand, trying to scratch it off. But it won’t come off. It’s a stain. A part of me that I can never let go. The mark was what started this in the first place. If I wasn’t at the wrong place at the wrong time, this wouldn’t have happened.

      I’m a mistake. That’s what I am.

      The screaming still hasn’t stopped and I’m paralyzed, “Stop it! Please, I can’t take it.”

      “Lydia!” comes a voice. It floats through this mess of a world like the Maker Himself is calling me.

      If the Maker truly is real, why did He let the world come to this? What had we done to deserve this destiny?

      “Lydia?”

      A Rift opens next to next, spewing a Pride demon right in front of me. I fall to my knees. If this is how the Maker sees my end, so be it. Let me be with my friends.

      The Pride demon lumbers towards me and raises its fist.

      Maker take me to your side. I hang my head, waiting for the end.

      “Lydia!”

      My eyes fly open and I jolt upright, vomiting into the water around me. Hands pat my back as I heave up the beautiful breakfast I had.

      “Get her some water!” someone yells.

      Someone else says something that’s guess muffled words.

      And then a question.

      And another.

      They’re all crowding me, asking me too many questions. I don’t know what they’re saying. I don’t even know what happened to me. That’s never happened before.

      I push away the people closest to me and scramble to my feet. Only getting a few steps through the shallow water, I can feel how weak my legs are.

      What exactly happened?  
      But I straighten, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth.

      “Lydia?” asks Cassandra, hesitant.

      No one takes a step closer.

      “I had a vision…” is all I can say. I can’t bear to look at them. Did I have a fit or something?

      “Of the Fade,” comes Solas’ voice. I look at him, but he continues, “I saw you there. Like a beacon. But it was not the Fade I remember. It had somehow become of this world.”

      A shudder ripples through me, “It was… the dark future Alexius had planned on building.”

      “Alexius…?” begins Dorian. “Why were you thinking about him now?”

      “I… I wasn’t.”

      “That power you can wield—opening Rifts,” says Solas. “It drains the energy from you each time you use it. But this time was different. It influenced you somehow, made you think of you worst fears.” He looks around the clearing, “Perhaps it is the power of this temple.”

       “I don’t know, but it was really messed up,” I mutter, rubbing my temple.

      Everyone’s battered, broken and bloody, but they’re concerned about me.

      “I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little shaken.”

      Cassandra’s body engulfs me in a hug, “See what happens when you use that power?”

      “Yes mother, I won’t use it again,” I say.

      I can feel her laugh, “Good.”

      Pulling away from her, I glance around me. The temple is surrounded with crumbling stone walls, with vines snaking through them.

      The front of the temple itself has two sets of stairs on either side leading up to the front doors. At the bottom of the stairs are two Halla statues greeting you when you climb the stairs. The temple seems as though it hasn’t been used in thousands of years—vegetation grows out of the stairs and along the path.

      A warm hand wraps around my own hand and I turn to see Cullen.

      He hands me a water skin, “Here. This’ll help.” His voice is soft.

      “Thank you,” I manage to say. Taking a grateful gulp, the cold water runs down the back of my dry throat.

      Cullen takes the skin when I’m done and smiles at me, “How are you feeling?”

      “Better now. I just… that’s never happened before.”

      “We’ll see if we can get some answers when we get back,” he says. “But, the path is clear and the temple is right in front of you. Shall we head in?”

      “No,” I say. “There are some soldiers who will arrive here in a few minutes. I want you to wait for them. They’ll bring you all back to the base.”

      I can see his face twist in protest, “But—”

      “You’re all injured. I won’t have you go any further. Harding can barely stand, you’ve got broken ribs for sure and Iron Bull is actually bleeding for once. My team are hardly hurt so we’ll continue on.”

      “Lydia… please,” he protests.

      I glare at him, “That’s an order. From your Inquisitor.”

      “Ah, so you order him around in bed, I’m guessing,” says Bull.

      “He’s the Commander in _that_ area, Bull,” I say.

      Cullen grips my hand harder, cheeks flushed, “Yes… well. Just be careful, Lydia.”

      And he kisses me, lips chapped from the fight, but I don’t care. That vision of the dark future was just something to break me. But when I have someone like Cullen, nothing can break me.

      When I pull away from his lips, Harding’s giving me a soft grin. Though her eyes are blood shot and bruising swells across her neck.

      “We’ll be back,” I say. “That, I promise you.”

      When one last look at the group, we head inside the temple, into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really wanted to play around with what could happen if someone uses their power of the rift too much. I mean, in the game it never really explores what the affects could be for something using that kind of power. And then it got really weird and I experimented with Lydia’s fears. Beautiful. But yes, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Next stop: Temple of Mythal. Stay groovy children.


	74. Chapter 73

“I hear fighting ahead,” yells Morrigan.

      And she’s not wrong. Yells and metal on metal echo through the narrow hallway we run through.

      The beginning of the temple.

      Are we too late? Is Corypheus already here?

      Morrigan presses a hand to my chest to stop me running. The five of us slow down, backs pressed against the wall as we sneak our way along.

      Slouched at the edge of the hallway is a body. A red Templar—with a feathered arrow through his chest. The hallway opens up into an impressive inner sanctum and it takes my breath away.

      Trees, larger than the ones in the Wilds, grow out from the stonework, shrouding the misty air. Birds twirl in the air, but the sounds of fighting block out their song. The pathway is cracked and ancient and the railings are flimsy and decaying. Yet the whole place still holds a regal feel to it.

      It’s strangely beautiful.

      The fighting stops, suddenly plunging the whole temple in silence.

      Walking quietly out to the edge of the balcony, I spot two groups, eyeing each other off, one standing below us and the other standing guard on a long bridge.

      They’re all breathing heavily, with weapons still in hand.

      A man with blood-shot eyes, messy brown hair and skin like a prune is surrounded by his body guards of red Templars. His armour isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. Red Lyrium juts out from his shoulders, elbows and knees, pulsing like a heartbeat. I swallow. He must be Samson.

      The one Cullen and I tried to stop. Though we never caught him, we had Dagna carve out a rune that would help drain the power from his armour. Thank the Maker I packed it in one of my pockets.

      “Na melana sur, banallen!” hisses one of the men from the other group. No, not man—but elf. I wish Solas was here to translate.

      The elves wear simple armour, nothing as grand as the red Templars. But their bows are drawn and spears are pointed. They’re out numbered, yet I’m sure they’ll still try to fight.

      A red Templar horror shoves a fallen elf at the group’s feet.

      “They still think to fight us, master,” I hear Samson say, a wicked grin on his face.

      Then he walks forward.

      Corypheus.

      I grip my hilts tighter, ready to attack.

      Coryphy-shit’s footsteps thunder around the temple as he moves towards the elves, “These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

      “Well of Sorrows?” I ask.

      Morrigan just shrugs.

      Corypheus is at least twice the size of the elves, his hulking mass unflinching as the elves get ready to attack.

      The elves back away, weapons still drawn. But I notice the pillars at the start of the bridge begin to light up. Blue runes begin to spark into the rock, glowing with energy.

      Corypheus takes one look at them, “Be honoured! Witness death at the hands of a new god.” But as he steps in line with the two pillars, they explode to life.

      Shooting jets of yellow light, Corypheus is trapped in the attack. Yet he manages to take a step forward and grab the nearest elf. His long, spindly fingers wrap around the elf’s face, pulling him up to eye level. The poor elf is trapped in the burning light as it begins to rip apart Corypheus’ flesh.

      Are they doing it? Are they killing him?  
      Corypheus’ skin peels from his bones, yet deep within his skull, his two eye sockets still glow red.

      Then the pillars explode and the elf he was holding is pushed backwards.

      The red Templars are blown back by the force too and I duck to miss the debris flying my way.

      The temple is silent and when I look up, the two groups have both been killed. The elves lay on the bridge, bodies broken. The red Templars are looking just as bad. One horror has a piece of stone stuck in his unblinking eye.

      Morrigan urges me to move and we slowly make our way down the stairs to the floor. None of us speak as we take in the carnage.

      Stepping over the bodies, I’m just as confused as everyone else.

      Where is Corypheus? Better still, is he dead?

      I glance across the bridge in time to see Venatori and red Templars rush into the gates. Some had survived. Samson stops to turn to me. He gives me an evil smirk and continues on, red Lyrium pulsing in time with his heart.

      “Damn it,” I snap.

      A groan fills the air and I turn to see a Grey Warden twitching. His body was lying still on the ground only moments ago, but now he’s sitting up. One of the last Grey Wardens.

      It’s like he’s possessed—his arms are wrapped around his torso, head down and his eyes shut.

      Cassandra stands close to me, hand wrapped around my arm.

      The Grey Warden is on his knees, back arched as he roars. And blood spews from his mouth, splattering the ground around him.

      And when he falls into a heap, his skin turns red then brown and his shoulders broaden and his face twists into a permanent scowl.

      Corypheus. He’s back.

      “It cannot be,” says Morrigan.

      A long, skinny arm breaks from the Grey Warden’s body, the cracking of changing bone filling the air.

      “Across the bridge!” I order. “Now!”  
      I urge Cassandra to move and we both run together. Morrigan sprints out in front with Dorian. Cassandra rushes ahead of me to wrap a hand around Varric to help him along, while I stay at the back to make sure Corypheus doesn’t do anything stupid.

      Which he probably will.

      His form bursts from the Grey Warden’s body, red eyes staring straight at me. His roar of fury rips right through me and I sprint faster, biting back my own scream of terror.

      Wing beats echo through the temple and I glance around to see the Archdemon fly in from its hiding spot. Straight towards us.

      “Run faster!” I yell.

      Yep. He definitely did something stupid.

      Beneath the bridge we run on is a massive waterfall, spewing into the basin far below us. Now I’m having flashbacks from when the dragon flew after Harding, Cassandra and I on the bridge back a Skyhold.

      But this is ten times worse because it’s an Archdemon.

      In front of us must by the heart of the temple. Strong stone walls expand out and up, creating a fortress almost as big as Skyhold.

      The dragon thunders towards us, jaws open, ready to rip us to shreds. Morrigan and Dorian reach the double doors Samson had shut behind him.

      They shoulder the door open without missing a step and spin around to face us. Their faces turn to horror at the Archdemon chasing us. They brace their arms on the inside of the doors, ready to start shutting them.

      Cassandra shoves Varric inside and stops for a split second to turn back to me. I wave at her to get inside the temple, but she stands stubborn as always.

      I’m still a few metres from the door, but I can feel the dragon’s beating wings.

      “Move!” yells the Seeker.

      I leap the extra way, crashing into Cassandra as the others slam the double doors close behind us.

      The dragon spews red hot fire towards us in vain, but the closed doors stand strong. The force sends Cassandra and I tumbling further. A yellow barrier seals coats itself over the doors and I have to sigh is relief. That’ll keep Corypheus out for a little longer.

      When I’m certain the dragon’s gone, I unwrap my arms and legs from Cassandra’s body, yet I can feel my hands shaking.

      Varric and Dorian help us up, brushing the dirt from our armour. Though most of it just sticks to the drying blood caked on my gauntlets and greaves.

      Morrigan glances at me, “Shall we head further into the temple?”

      “Anything to get away from Corypheus,” I mutter.

      We walk silently through the maze of vines and ferns growing within the walls. It seems no one has touched this place in a while. And any signs of Samson are gone. It’s like he never came through here. Most red Templars leave death and destruction, but it seems they’ve left the plants here alone.

      The temple is quiet. No birds chirp, no wind whistles through the narrow pathway we’re walking on and the foliage on the ground hushes our footsteps.

      Yet we continue walking through this mysterious temple.

      I’m almost about to give up on walking when Morrigan points at a room a few hundred metres down the hallway.

      “At last,” she saysd. “Mythal’s sanctum. Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes.”

      “You said Corypheus wanted an Elviun, but he mentioned a ‘Well of Sorrows’. Which is right?” demands Cassandra, stopping the group.

      Always the one getting answers.

      Morrigan scratches her head, “I… am uncertain of what he referred to.”

      “Could they be the same? Could ‘Eluvian’ translate into ‘Well of Sorrows’?” I ask.

       “No,” I says Morrigan. “It seems an Eluvian is not the prize Corypheus seeks.”

      I stare at her.

      “Yes, I was wrong! Does that please you?” she argues. “Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it and thus you must keep it from his grasp.”

      Nodding, I glance towards the end of the hallway, “Let’s find this Well before Corypheus’ people do.”

      We continue on and a thought strikes me, “I want to know how Corypheus returned to life. We saw him die.”

      “And his life force passes on to any Blighted creature, Darkspawn or Grey Warden,” says Morrigan.

      “Then Corypheus can’t really die,” says Dorian.

      “So that’s how the bastard survived Hawke,” says Varric, gripping Bianca tighter.

      We walk into an outer courtyard, filled with yet again, many plants. A raised platform sits in the centre of the courtyard, with weird looking tiles as its flooring.

      “We’ll find a way to stop him once we’re done here,” I promise.

       “‘Tis strange,” begins Morrigan. “Archdemons possess the same ability and still the Grey Wardens are able to slay them. Yet Corypheus they locked away. Perhaps they knew he could do this… but not how.”

      Orange flowers cover the ground as we make our way towards the raised platform.

      The steps have been eroded, yet with a leap, I make it up onto the titles.

      When my foot touches the tiles, a blue light emits from the pattern etched onto it.

      I jump back, Cassandra coming to stand in front of me, sword out.

      But she relaxes when the light goes away.

      Are these tiles pressure sensors?

      “It appears the temple’s magicks are still strong,” says Morrigan, coming to stand on the tile. It lights up again at her touch. She walks out towards the pillar in the middle of the platform and I follow her.

      Cassandra gives me a look of warning.

      But the writing inscribed into the stone pillar makes me curious, “Is this Elven? Does it say anything about this ‘Well of Sorrows’?”  
      “I only recognize a few phrases,” she says with a shake of her head. “Ah! ‘Abelasan’, meaning ‘place of sorrow’. That must be the Well. There is something about knowledge, respectful or pure. Shiven, shivennen…” She stays quit for a second. “‘Tis all I can translate. That it mentions the Well is a good omen.”                               

      “Well, at least we know the Well of Sorrows was important,” I say.

      “Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry,” says Morrigan.

      I glance down at my feet where the tiles are.

      “A ritual to appease Elven gods?” asks Cassandra. “Long dead or no, I don’t like it.”

      I glance at her, “But it may help us.”

      “Unless you wish to turn back,” says Morrigan.

      I begin walking around the tiles, the blue light following m as I step on each tile in turn. But, I step on one already lit up and the whole platform grows dark.

      “What did I do?” I ask.

      “Do not step on the same tile twice,” says Morrigan. “Perhaps that will work.”

      I try again, this time moving with confidence as I snake my way along each tile. And when I step on the last one, a flood of yellow light sweeps over the tiles and a chime echoes through the temple.

      “There!” I say.

      “Well done,” praises Morrigan. “Let us see what awaits.”

      Cassandra helps me down from the platform, though I can see the worry in her eyes. We’re in a place far beyond the reach of the Maker. This is where the Elven gods rule.

      I squeeze her hand in encouragement.

      Varric sweeps his arm in front of me, “After you Stumbles.”

      Rolling my eyes, I continue on, Cassandra in tow.

      Moving up the stairs, a Venatori warrior lies dead on the ground, a feathered arrow through his back. And the body of an elf lies a few metres away from the Venatori.

      “I see the Venatori have already encountered the temple’s guardians.”

      “Charming,” says Dorian. “My country men don’t make friends easily, do they?”

      “You know what, these elves are really starting to scare me,” says Varric.

      “The Venatori trespassed on their sacred ground,” says Morrigan.

      “So are we,” says Varric. “Just saying.” He sends Cassandra a small smile.

      “Well don’t worry, I’m sure the _Princess_ here will save you,” I say.

      “Ugh, I am not a Princess,” snaps Cassandra.

      “You are to Varric, it seems,” says Dorian. “Oh is that only when you two are in bed together?”

      “Oh, that may be true, Dorian,” I say. “I probably heard Varric screaming it out one night.”

      “I’ll be quieter next time,” mumbles Varric.

      Morrigan clears her throat, “We are in a scared temple. Just remember that. As I was saying: The Temple of Mythal. Constructed in an age when elves, not men, dominated this land. The elves believed she was a goddess of Justice. They came here to request judgment after they proved their worth.”

      We move around the courtyard, looking for anything we can salvage before heading into the heart of it.

      We come to a balcony on the side of the temple, red fungus growing from the stone.

      “Lydia, touch this, I dare you,” says Dorian. His finger hovers over the fungus.

      Varric pushes him and just mere seconds before the mage’s finger touches the fungus, Varric pulls him back.

      Dorian’s scream echoes across the temple and he scrambles towards me, a cackling Varric trying hard to keep himself standing straight.

      “That was not funny, dwarf. I am stronger than you. Next time, I’ll throw you into the fungus,” says Dorian, still hiding behind me.

      “Do not be silly,” says Cassandra. “Varric has much more strength than you ever will.”

      I grin at Dorian, “She’s correct.”

      Turning back to Cassandra I grin at her, but she’s looking at something else. Pushed up against the wall is a stone statue of a wolf, lying against the overgrown foliage.

      A colourful bird sits on top of its head, but when the rest of us come over, it flies off. A plague in front of the statue reads ‘Statue of Fen’Harel’.

      I’ve heard of this Elven god before when I was going through some old history books with Solas and Vivienne. He was the rebel god.

      “Why would _this_ be here?” asks Morrigan. “It depicts the Dread Wolf—”

      “Fen’Harel,” I finish.

      Morrigan nods, “In Elven tales, he tricks their gods into sealing themselves away in the Beyond, for all time. Setting Fen’Harel in Mythal’s greater sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry.”

      “Some Chantry’s display statues of Andraste’s betrayal of Maferath as part of the chant,” I say.

      “It might fulfill a similar function,” agrees Morrigan. “A reminder of vigilance of the faithful. Still, so long as the wolf’s jaw cannot close around us, we may move safely on.”

      And we do, satisfied we’ve found everything we can in this part of the temple.

      The door that leads further inside pulses with blue light. When I push my palm into it, the blue light dissipates and the doors open.

      I glance at the others, “Let’s make this quick.”

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, I love fics where Varric calls Cassandra ‘Princess’, so I just had to put it in! But I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it was a little boring, but I’m condensing the mission as much as I can!


	75. Chapter 74

An explosion rocks the foundations of the temple as we move into a garden. Standing across the garden on a high balcony is Samson and his group of red Templars and Venatori.

      The red Templars scrabble at the debris the explosion made. They made a hole in the ground, destroying the beautiful tress that had once stood. They’re destroy scared ground.

      Samson turns to look down on us, “Hold them off.”

      The red Templars obey his command, rushing down to meet us. Bolts and magic fly, driving into the red Templars coming at us and I watch helplessly as Samson jumps down the hole, further into the temple.

      I curse before driving a blade through a red Templar’s armour. It hardly hurts him, but I’m too angry to stop now. Blades twirling, face in an ugly snarl, I tear through the red Templars like butter.

      We’re going to get to the Well of Sorrows first if it’s the last thing I do. And we’re stopping Corypheus.

      When the last red Templar falls, Cassandra has to calm me down, a hand on my arm. I glance at her and she just smiles, “They’re all gone. It is fine.”

      Nodding, I sheath my blades, “Come on. We might catch them.”

      Rushing towards the big hole Samson just tore apart, I just hope to the Maker we’re not too late to stop them.

      Morrigan runs out in front, stopping at the edge of the hole, an arm held out in front of her, “Hold! A moment.”

      I stop, “What?”

      “While they rush ahead, this leads to out true destination,” she points to a door behind us. “We should walk to petitioner’s path as before.”

      “An army fights and dies for us. The longer we tarry, the more soldiers we lose outside,” says Cassandra. “Let’s jump down and be done with this place.”

      “Just a thought: maybe rushing through the place like a mad bull isn’t the best plan,” says Dorian.

      “You see the urgency. We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared,” says Morrigan.

      “We don’t know what’s behind those doors,” I say. “They might have a reason for going another way.”

      “Had they the option, they would have proceeded. _That_ must lead to their goal.”

      “Their goal? Or yours?” I’ve had enough of Morrigan’s riddles and she was wrong about the Eluvian, so what if she’s wrong again? She could be putting my friends in danger.

      Morrigan just looks at me and points towards the door. She begins walking towards it, “There is… a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser.” She stops just in front of them, “Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored.”

      I blink, “I wasn’t expecting your answer to be so… romantic.”

      Morrigan gives me a small smile, “Trust me. Your surprise is matched only by my own.” But she sighs, “Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand: elves, dragons, magic… the list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true.”

      I look at Varric and he’s watching Morrigan with suspicion. So is Cassandra.

      Morrigan bows her head, “I read more in the first chamber than I revealed. It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows… but at a terrible price.”

      My anger spikes, “Did you not trust us enough to tell us about this price when you read it?”

      “I hoped the find more information. If I intended to cheat you, I would have feigned ignorance entirely.”

      I sigh, “What exactly did that alter say about the Well of Sorrows?”

      “Like most Elven writing, it was insufferably vague,” she explains. “The term I deciphered was ‘Halam’Shivanas’—‘the sweet sacrifice of duty’. It implies the loss of something personal for duty’s sake. Yet for those who served at the temple, a worthwhile trade.”

      “Hm, don’t think I’m willing to pay the price,” says Varric.

      “My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost,” says Morrigan.

      “And gain what?” I ask.

      “That is what we must discover. The rituals may point the way.”

      I take a hard look at the doors then back to the hole in the ground.

      If the rituals truly do help, then we’ll have the petitioner’s way to help us through the temple. But if they’re a waste of time, Samson may get to the Well before us.

      I bite my lip, “Fine. The rituals it is. But if you’re wrong, Morrigan, I’ll suck you into a Rift.”

      “Very charming, considering last time you blacked out,” she says. But I can see the smile on her face. She’s having a jab at me.

      The doors will open once we’ve done the rituals, so I urge everyone towards the first one—we need to hurry. Though, I don’t really know where I’m going.                    

      Morrigan takes the lead, directing us into the room left of the giant hole Samson made. The room grows full of trees and bushes, yet the large raised platform in the middle of the room hasn’t been touched by the foliage.

      The first ritual is the same as the one we had outside, yet it looks a little harder.

      “Remember Inquisitor, don’t step on the same tile twice,” reminds Morrigan.

      My companions move around the room to get good vantage points. Varric heads up the stairs to a balcony, leaning against a broken railing so he can watch me from above. Cassandra and Dorian move to stand at each side of the platform, while Morrigan stands at the stairs with me.

      She nods and I begin moving along the tiles, careful not to step on the same one twice. Knowing me, I’ll trip and land on multiple tiles at once. The tiles light up blue again, following me with each step I take.

      Cassandra and Dorian stand on the railings, pointing at different paths and Varric shouts from his height to keep me in the right direction.

      When I reach the middle path, free of tiles, I glance over at Dorian, “There’s another half?”

      “Yes, good spotting,” he says. “Just do the same, but mirrored. Easy.”

      “Yes thank you, but I’m not very good when it comes to this stuff. I tend to trip a lot.” But I traverse on anyway, like a good little Inquisitor.

      Cassandra screams when I’m about to stuff up my path and I jump onto the tile she’s pointing at. I grin at her in thanks. But I understand. If I had to start again, I’d be wasting precious time that we don’t have. My inner circle are all wounded, Cullen’s hardly fit for commanding and my spymaster has lost some of her best scouts. Though thankfully Harding’s still alive… barely.

      I bite my lip, listening to Cassandra’s directions.

      And so with the last tile stepped on, the tiles chimes and the blue light disappears.

      “That did something,” I say.

      Cassandra just huffs, “Let’s move onto the next one.”

      And so we do. I’m determined to make sure this was the right decision. If we do these rituals, we’ll have a head start on Samson. I pray I’m right.

 

.

.

.

 

“There,” I say, hands on knees, breathing heavily. “The ritual is done.” Cassandra holds me in her arms and I kneel on the floor a couple of metres from the third and final ritual, the tiles glowing a constant blue.

      Dorian claps my back, “You did well. I never knew you could run so fast.”

      I wave a hand, “Next time, someone else can do the rituals, especially when they haven’t been touched in thousands of years.”

      Morrigan tilts her head, “It was not known that there would be spiders in the rituals.”

      “It is expected they would make their webs in places hardly touched by men—or elves,” says Cassandra.

      Her embrace has stopped my shakiness, but I can still feel where the spider landed on my neck.

      A shiver runs down my back and I shakily get to my feet, “Just because the spider wasn’t as big as the ones we’ve faced before, doesn’t mean it was any less scary.”

      “It was the size of a coin,” says Dorian. “And you ruined their home.”

      “The spider shouldn’t have made a web in my path,” I say.

      “Even when facing your biggest fear, you somehow found the right path,” says Morrigan.

      I swallow. Spiders may be one of my fears—but not the biggest… according that gravestone I read in the Fade.

      _A Mistake_.

      My hand doesn’t leave Cassandra’s arm.

      Morrigan smiles, “I commend you.”

      “Ugh, let’s go, everything’s lit,” I say, moving back into the temple’s main chamber.

      Varric barks a laugh, “Did you just hear yourself, Stumbles?”

      I look back at him, “What?”

      Varric just smirks, “You sounded like Cassandra.”

      The Seeker herself just rolls her eyes, “Ugh.”

      “See!”

      “They’ve been friends for too long,” says Dorian. “Cassandra’s corrupting Lydia’s mind.”

      “I would say she’s expanding it,” I say. “I’ve learnt a new word for my vocabulary.”

      Cassandra just nods, “She is correct.”

      “Yeah, yeah, just keep moving you two,” says Varric.

      “Come, let us see if the doors have opened,” says Morrigan.

      When we reach the doors, they’re just as bright as the tiles I ran across. Glancing at the others, I push the doors open, ready to face whatever awaits.

      And it’s not much, if I’m honest. The chamber we walk through is huge and enclosed, unlike any of the other parts of the temple we’ve been to. This must be where the petitioners came to ask Mythal for judgment.

      The floor is covered with dirty yellow tiles, while around us braziers are lit—which is strange considering no one’s been here in a while. And I don’t think Samson would go around lighting fires just for the sake of it.

      Stone archers stand regel in their corners, loaded bows pointed to the middle of the chamber. At the other end of the room stands a balcony, though the railings are in much better shape than the ones outside.

      “‘Tis not what I expected,” admits Morrigan. “What was this chamber used for… hmm.”

      She’s confused just as much as I am.

      But I stop in the middle of the chamber, another shiver moving down my spine. Not because of the spiders. No…

      “We’re being watched,” I say.

      Varric turns to look at me, but stops short of whatever he was about to say. His face falls, eyes looking at something behind me.

      I spin to see a line of elven archers blocking our way out. Their arrows are pointed straight at us. Swallowing back my fear, I turn to the balcony to see another elf standing atop it.

      The elf must be their leader. He wears brown robes, though I do notice the armour underneath the flowing material. His face is hooded in the robes, but I can see the green Vallaslin of Mythal painted on his forehead.

      I do remember asking Solas why he didn’t have a Vallaslin painted on his face, but he didn’t want to discuss it. Instead he pointed me to read a book about the tattoos and their meanings. I still don’t know why he didn’t give me an answer.

      The elf raises a hand, “Venavis.”

      Could that mean butt hole? We’ll never know.

      “You… are unlike the other invaders,” he says. “You bear the mark of magic which is… familiar.”

       I glance at my glowing mark.

      “How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?”

      I swallow, “They are my enemies, as well as yours.” I guess if I act friendly, we may gain some trust.

      The elf’s face softens, “I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on scared ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion.” He begins pacing, restless, “I know what you seek. Like all who come before, you wish to drink from the Vir’abelasan.”

      “‘The Place of the Way of Sorrows’,” whispers Morrigan. “He speaks of the Well!”

       “It is not _for_ you. It is not for _any_ of you,” snaps Abelas.

      “Hang on,” I say. “You’re elves from ancient times. Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?”

      “The Shemlen did not destroyed Arlathan,” says Abelas. “We Elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over.”

      “Wait, that’s not right. What are you saying?” asks Dorian.

      “You would not know truth. Shemlen history is short as the pool of your years.”

      “What did the Imperium do, then? Are you saying it wasn’t a war?”

      “The ‘war’ of carrion feasting upon a corpse, yes,” says Abelas. “We awaken only when called and each time find the world more foreign than before.”

      It’s fascinating to say the least. I’ve always had an interest in elven history, though I’m a strong believer in the Maker. Yet Solas hardly talks about it. He’s more interested in the Fade than his race’s own history.

      “It is meaningless,” continues Abelas. “We endure. The Vir’abelasan must be preserved.”

      “And what is this Vir’abelasan?” I ask, trying to get as much information as I can.

      “It is a path, one walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favor.”

      “He speaks of priests, perhaps?” asks Morrigan.

      “More than that you need not know.”

      “We didn’t come here to fight you, nor to steal from your temple,” I say. Abelas is beginning to suspect us again. I need to keep him on our side.

      Abelas regards us for a few seconds before nodding quickly, “I believe you.”

      Thank the Maker.

      “Trespassers you are, but you have followed the rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal,” he say.

      I breath a sigh of relief. I knew those rituals would come in handy.

      “If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart… and never return.”

      Cassandra’s hand rests against my arm, “I do not trust them. We know not what they’ll do once the battle is over.” Her voice is quiet, but I can see the urgency in her eyes. She’s out of her element here.

      Dorian nods, “I’ll admit, the idea of fighting the last of their kind… does not thrill me.”

      “Consider carefully,” urges Morrigan. “You must stop Corypheus, yes. But you may also need the Well for your own.”

      I send her a look. I know she wants the power.

      And why do I always have to make the decisions? It’s too much pressure on me.

      If I object, the elves will attack and we’ll have to fight them. Precious time wasted—and if they defeat us, Corypheus is bound to win. Yet, I still do not trust the elves fully—just as they don’t trust us.

      But an enemy of an enemy is a friend…

      “I accept your offer.” The words escape my mouth before I can stop them. But I’ve made my decision.

      “You will be guided to those you seek,” the elf says with a nod. “As for the Vir’abelasan… it shall not be despoiled.” He turns, beginning to walk away from us. “Even if I must destroy it myself.”

      “No!” yells Morrigan.

      “Morrigan!” I scream, but I’m too late.

      She steps forward, shifting into a raven, dark as night. She flaps after Abelas, leaving us to the elves.

      “Shit,” I hiss. I knew she would do this. I knew she would want that power, no matter what. I kick the floor, “Damn it!”

      Cassandra stops my tantrum, “Lydia. Stop. We’ll find her. But first we must follow that elf.” Her gaze turns to the left side of the chamber. The elves behind us disappear in a plum of smoke, but it’s who Cassandra’s looking at that gets my attention.

      Standing hunched over, a hand gripping a staff, is an older looking elf. Her robes are the same, yet she carries a large book under her arm.

      “They left someone behind,” says Varric. “A handy guide, maybe.” He looks at me and smiles.

      Then the elf looks at me and begins moving, shuffling along awfully slow.

      With nowhere else to go, we follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! So the rituals are over, and of course Morrigan has run off!! She is a great character though, so I forgave her after a while! But yes, I hope you enjoyed this chapter my friends! Stay groovy!


	76. Chapter 75

“He said the elves destroyed themselves,” says Dorian. We move up the stairs, just behind the old elf—our guide. “Before my countrymen came along. Could that be true? I can hardly believe it.”

      I shrug, “Maybe the scribes got it wrong. Your countrymen couldn’t have always been bad. I mean, you’re a great person, Dorian. Just because they’re Tevinter doesn’t mean they were the ones to destroy the elves.”

      Dorian looks at me, “Thank you, Lydia. Perhaps you’re right.”

      I smile, “Not all are as dashing as you, but they could be as nice.”

      “Quite true.”

      Our guide looks at us, “Mythal’enaste.”

      I blink, “Hello?”

      She doesn’t say anything.

      “That’s helpful, since fricking Morrigan chased off on her own. Now we don’t have a translator.”

      “It was not your fault, Lydia,” says Cassandra. “Morrigan helped for her personal gain all along.”

      We’re silent as we move further through the temple’s inner sanctum. It is beautiful, I must admit.

      Reaching a room with a golden statue of Mythal and a large mosaic wall, I can’t help but whistle in awe, “This place looks untouched.”

      “The entire temple must have looked like this long ago,” says Cassandra. But her face tightens into a scowl, “How could the elves put so much devotion into this… nonsense.”

      I glance at her, “We’ll be out of here soon, I promise.”

      She just nods.

      Varric squeezes her hand and I see her smile a little.

      Dorian and I exchange looks, grinning.

      But the guide doesn’t stop, so we’re running after her to make sure we don’t get lost in the maze of walls and doors.

      “Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!” says the elf.

      I think she’s telling us to hurry up.

      “Sorry,” I say.

      The Dalish camp in the Exalted Plains were nice enough to teach me some phrases after we helped them with some of their troubles, but I can’t remember any from the top of my head. It was quite hard to learn. Loranil, an elf from the clan had joined the Inquistion and is one of Cullen’s most eager recruits. He helps me sometimes to learn their language.

      I can hear fighting but we bypass the Venatori and red Templars, which I’m glad about. I’ve hardly got any energy left.  

      The guide takes us to a room where golden bars trap us from the fighting. On the other side, the elves are fighting Venatori.

      “The Sentinels are holding their own,” I say.

      “Count your blessings we’re not still fighting both at the same time,” says Dorian.

      I nod.

      And even Cassandra mumbles an agreement.

      But the guide moves along and we escape the sounds of fighting.

      Our journey drags on, the elf’s steps slow and small as we pass through more mosaics of various elven gods and scenes from their beliefs. I can’t believe any of this still stands after thousands of years.

      Dorian and I twirl around each other, keeping ourselves energetic and lively in case something happens. Like the Venatori begin attacking us. Varric and Cassandra talk quietly to each other, hopefully about their plans for tonight.

      I can’t help but chuckle at the thought.

      But the guide just keeps walking, not saying a word.

      The elf leads us into a room no larger than Cassandra’s chambers. The walls are plain and the marble floor is chipped and dirty. She stops in the middle of the room, head bowed.

      I can here fighting coming from behind those doors in front of us. The guide just points towards them.

      Then I remember Abelas said he’d take us to the enemy—but nowhere. We’ll have to find the Well ourselves.

      Glancing at Cassandra, I walk towards the doors. She follows closely behind, sword already in her hand.

      And sure enough, when I open the doors, we’re greeted by Sentinels fighting the last of the Venatori.

      I snap into battle mode, blades in my hands, rushing towards the nearest enemy. My blade passes straight through the man’s leg and he falls into a heap on the ground. I quickly finish him off before he can call for back up.

      Cassandra slots in next to me and I can see the rage on her face. She just really needs to hit something. Luckily I’m on her side.

      An arrow whizzes past my face, lodging into the eye socket of a Venatori mage. I wave in thanks at the Sentinel, moving onto my next target. We’ve certainly outnumbered the Venatori and the fight hardly lasts a few minutes.

      But when we’re finished, I nod in thanks to the elves. They mutter something back in elven, that none of us can understand.

      “Come on, I have a feeling we’re nearly there,” says Varric.

      The double doors at the end of the room spark some hope. Perhaps the Well’s through there—and Samson as well.  

      Opening the doors reveals another garden, huge and majestic. We stand on a platform overlooking the garden, a waterfall rushing beneath us. Birds chirp, flapping around the huge sanctuary. And the trees here are massive, green and bushy.

      This place is amazing, I must admit.

      “This must be… the Well of Sorrows.”

      “Andraste guide us,” breathes Cassandra.

      “How has such magic lasted?” asks Dorian.

      It really is a wonder.

      But we move down the staircase flanking the balcony. Hopefully we can get a better look at the garden. Debris litters the stairs, roots taking over the stone. This part obviously wasn’t taken care of that well.

      “Fight on! An army of these bastards won’t stop us!” The yell echoes through the sanctum and I have to bite back my fear. It’s Samson.

      “How will you get to the Well, General?” asks one of his henchmen.

      “Tell me you brought some damned rope!” he replies.

      Varric grabs my wrist, pulling me to stay behind the wall. I peek out to see red Templars slaughtering the elves. One red Templars just burns an elf to death, while I watch another get drowned in the elf-made creek.

      I have to glance away when one Sentinel gets a dagger racked across his throat. But he’s still alive, choking on his own blood as he falls to his knees. A crack echoes across the sanctum and I flinch. The red Templar just snapped his neck.

      Taking in the surroundings, it seems the lane of water leads towards a rocky crest in the middle of the garden. It’s too high and unsteady to climb. Those rocks could slide at the slightest amount of pressure.

      Samson waltzes towards his men, a smile plastered on his face, “You tough bastards—a day’s march, hours of fighting and still fierce as dragons.”

      Sounds like my Inquisition.

      “The Chantry never knew what it was throwing away,” he continues. His armour glints in the sun, red Lyrium pulsing quickly. His heart rate must be up.

      He’s got his back turned to me… I could take him now. And the mist could hide my attack.

      Rushing from behind me cover, blades in hand, I run towards him.

      Cassandra tries to stop me, but her hand just slips off my armour.

      But one of the red Templar’s spots me in the mist, “Samson—ser! Look out.”

      Samson turns smoothly, as if he were expecting me.

      Stupid plan. I should’ve stayed put.

      “Inquisitor,” he says, voice smooth and creepy. “You’ve got a damned long reach. We come to the back end of nowhere and here you are.”

      “You and your red Templars weren’t my concern, not until now,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I move a little closer, so we’re a few metres apart. My team stand beside me, weapons ready.

      “You keep getting in over your head, don’t you?” he asks. “Corypheus chose me twice. First as his General, now as the Vessel for the Well of Sorrows.”

      Vessel… Cullen and I saw that written in one of Samson’s letters when we were trying to stop his armour from growing more power. I hadn’t known what that meant—until now.

      “You know what’s inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world,” Samson says with a chuckle. He turns to the rocky hill—the only thing stopping them from using the Well. “I give it to Corypheus and he can walk into the Fade without your precious anchor.”

      “What’s your part in it? What’s a ‘Vessel’, exactly,” I ask.

      He doesn’t look at me, “What else empties a Well? I’ll carry its power to Corypheus. One more task entrusted to me. Being force-fed Chantry Lyrium was good for something. This armour makes me a living fortress—mind and body.”

      I finger the rune tucked away in my pocket.

      “I won’t forget a word of the Well’s knowledge. Corypheus will be unstoppable.”

      I clench my fists, “Once Corypheus is that powerful, you and your soldiers will just slow him down.”

      “You dare say that to my face?” he sneers. “After you butchered my men? You’re no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well. You’ll never master its wisdom as he could.” Samson steps forward, a shock wave of red light pulsing around his body. His armour begins to light up, “ _This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it’s a new world now. With a new god.” The red light runs through the armour like veins, fueling him. “I will bring Corypheus the Well’s power and your head, all at once. To arms!”

      Samson leaps towards me and it’s all I can do to just dodge him landing on me. I scramble to safety, but Samson comes after me, red Lyrium powering him.

      Cassandra’s trying to flank him, but I wave a hand, “Focus on the others.”

      She hesitates, but I plead with my eyes and she rushes to help Varric, a curse under her breath.

      Samson is mine.

      He marches towards me and I hold out my swords. I couldn’t suck him into a Rift if I tried. My body is drained of energy and I’m scared of what the next vision could show.

      He just laughs, swinging his sword.

      I parry the attack with one blade, twisting the other in my hand to try and drive it into his back.

      But he’s fast, swiping my second sword away and I have to move backwards to keep my balance.

      We dance around each other, swapping attacks every few seconds. But I can’t penetrate his defenses. He’s trying to wear me down, trying to tire me out so he can attack.

      The armour is making him too strong, too fast, too powerful. And he knows he’s going to win.

      If I can use that power and arrogance to my advantage…

      “That armour looks ugly on you,” I yell as I dodge another fore swing from his blade.

      “Do you think I care about what I look like? The only thing that matters now it your head on the end of my sword,” Samson yells back. His eyes are deranged, blood shot and wide.

      I pepper him with a flurry of swings, yet he can deflect all of them.

      “You know, I’m surprised Cullen never got laid when you were both Templars. He’s far more attractive than you,” I say. “And he’s quite good with his hips.”

      Samson roars, throwing all of his power into a swing. But I spin, dodging the blade by half a centimetre. It was a clumsy attack.

      His sword is lodged in the stone ground and I spin, slashing my blade his back. The red Lyrium armour pulses again, sending a shock through my arm.

      I convulse, moving backwards to get away.

      The armour just shocked me, but I do notice a spot of blood from my attack. If it bleeds, it can be killed.

      “Who will tell Cullen his lover was killed?” asks Samson. “I think I’ll have to break the poor news to him. Perhaps I can show him your head so he knows I’m not lying.”

      Gritting my teeth, I square up to Samson as he readies himself, sword pulled from the ground.

      Eyes flicking to the others, I can see that they’re holding they own against the other red Templars.

      Somehow, a smile comes to my lips, “Tired already, Samson? Cullen always did have much more stamina. We can go _all_ night.”

      He roars again, thundering towards me. I must be dreaming because he seems to grow _taller._ I move my swords in front of my face in an X, to block his attack. My blades hold his sword, but I can feel his strength growing.

      Samson _is_ taller—standing almost a head higher than he was before. He grins at me, shoving me backwards.

      My back hits the wall and I lose my breath. I see a glint of metal in the sunlight and rock back on my heels.

      But a pain spikes in my cheek and I scramble to the side, ducking under another one of his attacks. Warm, thick blood covers the hand I hold to my cheek. And the pain almost makes me scream.

      Samson laughs, “Not so pretty now.”

      “Still more beautiful than you,” I mutter, trying to clear my head. The pain softens my other senses and I’ve got blood everywhere. Even my hilts are slick with it. My muscles are heavy from the strain of fighting and I can feel a headache pulsing through my skull.

      But I can see Cassandra inching closer, the other Templars taken down. Samson hasn’t realized he’s alone yet.

      “Tired are you?” asks Samson. He’s definitely huge now. Standing at least as tall as Cassandra and Varric combined. He towers over me, hands gripping his sword, “You’re just like everyone else you thinks they can take me. Pitiful. And you know what, you’re a mistake. I can’t believe Cullen fell for someone like you.”

      I spit the blood from my mouth, “At least I have a life where I’m well loved. I have friends, I have a family. I have an Inquisition. What do you have, Samson? Some stupid Well and red Lyrium armour that makes you look like a maniac.”

      “A maniac, eh? Do you think you can win against a maniac?”

      “Yeah. I do.”

      Cassandra drives her shield into Samson’s leg and while he’s off balance, Varric shoots him into the back. Again, the red Lyrium pulses across Samson’s body, but I can see the ripple of pain on his face. Dorian shoots a bolt of ice at the man and it lodges itself into his calf.

      His scream of pain rips through the sanctum as he stumbles backwards, shrinking back to a normal size.

      I take my chance.

      Driving one blade through his chest, Samson jerks with the pain. His face turns white, expression frozen in shock.

      “You’ll never be half the man Cullen is,” I snarl. Pulling the blade from his chest, Samson falls in a heap to the ground.

      He claws at the ground, “Not the Well, you wrench. You can’t take it from Corypheus. You mustn’t…”

      From a towering giant to a blubbering baby.

      He grunts when he tries to pick himself back up. But his leg is crippled and he has a hole in his chest.

      Cassandra stands beside me, “He’s still breathing.”

      “That’s some damned good armour,” says Varric.                                                      

      I kneel down next to Samson as he tries to get back up, “You know, Samson. Power’s all well and good. Until it’s taken away.”

      I hold up the rune and press it against his bloody chest. He screams as the armour jerks, a spark of light erupting from it. His armour sizzles.

       He’s too weak to do anything now. And his armour’s broken. He won’t be hurting anyone else.

      “The Lyrium… I need it,” he whispers.

      “Ever with the chest wound, he lives. We’ll send him back to Skyhold for judgment,” I say.

      Cassandra nods, “If he makes it through the night.” She glances at my wound, “Is it bad?”

      I wipe away the blood dripping down my cheek, “I think I’ll live.”

      Footsteps echo across the sanctum and we turn to see Abelas run into the garden. He takes one look at me before summoning some sort of stair case.

      “Abelas!” I yell, running after him. The stairs form as his runs towards the Well.

      A useful way to climb to the top of the mound.

      But a squawk makes me turn and I see Morrigan flapping towards the Well. It’s a race now and I’m losing.

      I scramble up the stairs just behind Abelas and we make it to the top just as Morrigan swoops around, transforming back into herself blocking us from the Well.

      The water glistens in the light, the surface smooth as glass.

      I glare at both Abelas and Morrigan, trying to see who’ll make the first move.

      “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows,” says Morrigan. As if her running off on her own wasn’t bad at all.

      Abelas looks at me as I come to stand beside Morrigan—just to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.

      Cassandra, Varric and Dorian stand at the edge of the stairs, watching us, with Samson lying unconscious at Varric’s feet.

      “So the sanctum is despoiled at last,” comes the elf’s words.

      “You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance,” argues Morrigan.

      “To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!”

      “Fool!” snaps Morrigan. “You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows.”

      “Corypheus needed Samson to use the Well. Without him, there’s no ‘Vessel’ to claim it,” I say, trying to calm the both them.

      Morrigan turns on me, “The moment we leave, he will send more forces to secure the place.” She glances at Abelas before turning back to me, “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?”

      Abelas shakes his head, “Do you even know what you ask?” He turns to the Well, staring at the still water, “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on… through this.”

      I swallow, but let him continue.

      “All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

      “This… can’t be easy, holding on to what’s left,” I manage to say.

      “You cannot imagine. Each time we awaken, it slips further from our grasp.”

      “Why remain? Why perform a duty without a purpose?” asks Morrigan.

      Abelas doesn’t answer for a few seconds, “You have shown respect to Mythal and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny.” He looks at me, “Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir’abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

      “Not without your permission,” I say.

      “One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right.” He takes a few steps towards my companions and looks out over the garden. “The Vir’abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend.” He turns back, “Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

      “Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?” asks Morrigan.

      That’s not a good attitude to use against an elf who’s protected Mythal’s temple for his whole life.

      “Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours,” Abelas says.

      “Are you leaving the temple?” I ask.

      “Our duty ends. Why remain?” Abelas asks.

      “The Imperium went to great lengths to expunge Elven history. You might be the last to know the truth,” says Dorian.

      “Would the ‘elves’ of your lands listen to the truth?” snaps Abelas.

      “They might. Would it hurt to try?”

      I nod at Abelas, smiling, “It’s worth a shot.”

      “It very well may, shemlen. Yes.” Abelas looks away, “It may be that only Uthenera awaits us. The blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind.”

      “But… is it possible that Mythal still even exists?” I ask.

      “Anything is possible.”

      “I mean, she’s your duty, right? You still have to protect what’s left of her legacy.”

      “Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’Harel and banished to the Beyond,” says Morrigan.

      “‘Elven’ legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder,” says Abelas.                                                                                                                        

      “Murder? I… I said nothing of—”

      “She was slain, if a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple.”

      I’m just as confused as Morrigan is.

      “Yet the Vir’abelasan remains. As do we. That is something,” he says. He nods towards it, as if giving us permission.

      “Thank you for this gift, Abelas,” I say.

      “Do not thank me yet, shemlen.” And with that, he walks away, nodding softly at the others before heading back down the stairs.

      I watch him leave, wondering if he will take up our offer and tell the other elves the truth. The Dread Wolf didn’t trap Mythal? She was murdered? Solas doesn’t know the truth either. Or does he? He’s been in the Fade, he might have seen some things long ago, that’s even if the gods existed.

      Morrigan glances at me before turning to the Well. She points to the mirror at the far side of the Well, “You’ll note the intact Eluvian. I was correct on that count, at least.”

      I give her a look, “Is it still a threat? Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?”

      “You recall when I took you through my Eluvian. I said each required a key? The Well _is_ the key. Take its power and Mythal’s last Eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass. I did not expect the Well to feel so… hungry.”

      I blink. There is something in the air, pulling me towards the Well, something unnatural about it.

      “Let’s not be reckless,” I say. “I don’t want anyone hurt.”

      Morrigan is entranced by the still water, her golden eyes staring at the Well. But she blinks, snapping from her daze. Her golden eyes shift to me, “I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service. Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

       I scoff, “What training make you so qualified?”

      “I have studied the oldest lore. I have delved into mysteries of which you could only dream! Can you _honestly_ tell me there is anyone better suited?”

      I throw a hand in the air, “I don’t know who’s ‘better suited’ and neither do you.”

      “I have the best chance of making use of the Well… for everyone. Let me drink.”

      “You’re not concerned about the price? ‘Bound to the will of Mythal’, I recall Abelas saying.”

      “Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning,” says Morrigan. “Perhaps a compulsion yet remains. Who can say otherwise? I do not fear it, even so.”

      I bit my lip. She really wants this power and she says to use it to our advantage. But what if she doesn’t? What would I unleash if she went against us?

      But Morrigan wouldn’t. She has her son to look after and it seems she’d do anything for his protection.

      I sigh, “Are you sure you want this, Morrigan? We don’t know what will happen.”

      “We do not and yet it must be done. I am ready.”

      I glance at the others.

      “If it is truly between you and her… then let her take the risk. Maker help us all,” says Cassandra.

      I can’t help but smirk. She doesn’t want me to put myself in danger. She’s such a mother.

      “This is a lot of… weird,” says Varric. “I barely understand how any of this works.”

      “It all seems ghoulish. Let Morrigan use it, if she wants it so much,” says Dorian.

      None of them want me to use the Well. Because they don’t want me getting hurt. My heart swells. Yet still… do I risk Morrigan going rogue with the power?

      “Enough deliberation. Give me your decision,” urges Morrigan.

      “It’s yours,” I say.

      She turns to the Well, without so much as a thank you.

      Her boot touches the first step into the water and Cassandra comes to stand next to me. I hold her hand for support. I could have just doomed us all.

      But she smiles softly at me.

      When Morrigan’s boots touch the water, ripples spread out across the whole surface. I clear my drying throat.

      The water hardly comes up to her waist as she walks to the middle of the Well, fingers dragging along the surface. When she reaches the middle, she smiles at me.

      And then she lowers herself into the water, submerging herself in the all-powerful knowledge.

      Bubbles float around her, yet she doesn’t come up for air.

      That’s when the water begins to glow, sloshing around Morrigan’s floating body. I scream as the water rushes upwards into a circular wave.

      Cassandra pushes me to the ground, with Varric and Dorian in tow.

      I see the wave crest and the water rushes straight towards us.

      My grip tears away from Cassandra’s and I’m pushed backwards, sliding on my stomach.

      But the water soaks but into the ground and I’m lying, soaking wet on the ground. I push myself up to see the others slowly getting to their senses.

      Cassandra shoots me a look, but she scrambles to Varric’s side, helping him stand. He has a fear of water and I can’t imagine how bad a giant wave would’ve to him.

      Varric just waves her off, giving her a quick reassuring kiss on the knuckles.

      Dorian shoots me a knowing grin.

      But then I turn to the Well… it’s not a Well anymore. It’s empty, leaving a tiled basin in the middle of this rocky hill. And Morrigan lies motionless in the middle of it.

      I rush towards her, “Morrigan? Are you alright?” Kneeling beside her, I lift her head.

      But she jerks in my hands, gasping for air, “Ellasin selah! Vissan… vissanalia…” I help her to her feet. She looks around, “I… I am intact.” Her eyes don’t focus and she keeps looking around, like she’s following some unseen thing, “There is much to sift through… but now we can—” Blue smoke drifts up from the tiles and curls around Morrigan’s feet. Then it moves around the entire Well, floating towards each of us.

      Then Morrigan’s shaking finger points to the balcony at the end of the garden. The one we stood on just before we defeated Samson.

      And _he_ walks towards us.

      Corypheus is back.

      And he’s pissed.

      I can see the rage of his face and the scream of fury sends a shiver down my spine.

      He begins flying towards us, carried on a puff of red smoke.

      I nearly shit my pants. Who knew he could fly?

      “The Eluvian!” yells Morrigan. She flicks her wrist and the mirror springs to life.

      “Go!” I scream. “Go!”

      We’re running, Samson dangling between Varric’s arms.

      I let everyone rush through before me, to make sure I don’t leave anyone behind.

      Cassandra’s the last to leap through and when I glance back, the Well seems to fight back. A ghostly figure rises up from the empty Well, strangely similar to Morrigan.

      When Corypheus crashes into it, the apparition knocks him back. He screams in pain, but his eyes lock with mine.

       I spin, diving into the mirror and to wherever Morrigan takes us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed around Samson’s armour a little, just to fit into my story a little better—usually the rune is used first, but I thought ‘what the heck’, I’ll use it last. Also, Cassandra says that Morrigan should drink from the Well, then disapproves when she does! What’s with that! But, I made her a little more accommodating for that decision. Sorry for the long chapter, but the Arbor Wilds are finally done! I have changed a little of the canon in the next chapter (spoiler, they won’t falling back through the Eluvian back at Skyhold!) But, until next time my groovy friends!


	77. Chapter 76

I fly from the portal, landing face first on the ground. I scramble away from the portal, “Shit! That was close! Too close!”

      Cassandra helps me to my feet and we both back away from the disappearing portal.

      “He won’t find us here,” says Morrigan. “I made sure to knock him out for a while.”

      “That was you—the ghost,” I breath.

      “‘Twas me indeed. Corypheus won’t come looking for us here. He’ll go into hiding, tail between his legs.”

      I’m not sure where here its.

      But before I can say anymore, someone envelops me in a hug, “Inquisitor! You’re all back! Thank the Maker.”

      When she pulls away, I see Josephine’s worried face, “We were worried for you—all of you.”

      “We’re… we’re fine, Josie,” I say with a small smile. Morrigan teleported us back to base… but if that’s the case, how did she manage that? Is it the Well’s power?

      She hugs everyone in turn and I notice Josephine’s still wearing her chest plate. She even gives Morrigan a quick hug, much to the mage’s surprise.

      Looking around, I can see the crowd of people surrounding us. Most are soldiers coming back from the fighting. But it seems we won. For now.

      Some smile at me, while others watch on in sadness. We may have won this battle, but there would be many who didn’t make it.

      We’ll give the fallen a proper burial when we reach Skyhold. That is my silent promise.

      Then everyone begins to ask questions, from ‘what happened at the temple?’ to ‘did you see any giant spiders?’

      I’m glad I didn’t see any giant ones—though there was that one spider that landed on my neck when I was doing the rituals.

      A shiver runs down my spine.

      Josephine claps her hand and the questions stop, “To your duties, Inquisition. I’m sure the Inquisitor and her companions have many stories to tell over dinner.” Everyone disperses, going back to whatever they were doing.

      I grin, “I see you’ve been doing my job while I’ve been away.”

      She gives me a sheepish look, “I do like being bossy sometimes.”

      I let out a laugh, “Feel free to take over.”

      “Oh no, I’m perfectly fine with the politics. That’s enough trouble as it is,” she says. But her face turns dark, “The others… they’ll want to see that you are back safe.”

      I nod, “How are they?”

      “Stable… yet tired. And they’re worried for you. They told me of your… vision.”

      “A fit more like it. I saw my biggest fears… not something I want to see again.”

      Josephine nods, leaving it at that. She knows when not to pry.

      I guess the experience is a little too raw to talk about it yet. I don’t even know why the vision happened.

      Waving down the captain I talked to when I first arrived, she walks over to me, “Inquisitor. It is good to see you back.”

      “And you, Captain.” I nod towards the unconscious Samson, slumped against a tree. “Make sure he’s put in chains and kept in a cage. He’ll be judged when we get back.”

      “As you wish. Anything else, Your Worship?”

      “Have a drink. You deserve it.”

      She hesitates, but nods, “Thank you, ma’am.”

      She moves off and I look at Josephine. She seems to approve of my actions, leading the way to the others.

      Cassandra, Dorian, Morrigan and Varric follow close behind me. As Josephine leads us through the maze of tents, armories and stables, I realise we’re going to the infirmary.

      The sun’s position makes me blink. It’s already late afternoon?

      We’ve been fighting all day.

      The sheer amount of exercise has certainly tired me out.

      They sit outside the tent, drinking tonics and chatting quietly. But they’re altogether and that’s the main thing. They’re a team… we’re a team.

      They’ve all been patched up, various bandages wrapped around their limbs. Armour has long since been removed, to help the recovery, but their weapons remain close by, just in case the base was attacked.

      Iron Bull looks up, his eye patch gone to reveal the scar left instead of his eye. He must have lost the patch in the fighting. And his bare chest is red an raw from new wounds. But he grins, “Boss!”

      Everyone else looks up and they grin at us.

      “About time, Quizzy! We’re waiting to start a game of Wicked Grace,” says Sera.

      “I’m not playing against you, Sera. You always win.”

      “I’ll play you,” says Josephine.

      “No way. I’m shite against you, Josephine,” comes the elf’s reply.

      The tent flaps rustle and Harding’s head peeks out, “Lydia? You guys are back!”

      I grin at her, “It’s because we missed you so much.”

      “Well, I am the lead scout. People bow to my greatness.”

      “Certainly,” I say, walking up to the group. “I’m sure Krem would agree.”

      He just nods, but I notice a bandage wrapped around his back—a new scar to add to his collection, I’m sure.

      Sera gives me a hug, Wicked Grace forgotten. A long scar runs across her arm, but she seems alright. She ruffles my hair, “Better get that scar looked at, yeah?”

      I palm my cheek, “I’ll be sure to get it cleaned. How are you Sera?”

      “Vivvy saved my butt. Speared a Templar right in the arse.”

      “Vivienne, my dear. My name is Vivienne,” comes the mage’s voice.

      “I try to thank you and all you care about is your stupid name,” says Sera. “Typical noble bitch.”

      Vivienne just shakes her head and looks at me, “How are you feeling, darling?”

      “Better… I’m not light headed anymore.”

      “No more opening Rifts, I hope.”

      “No. I didn’t want to risk it.”

      “Good to hear, my dear. We’ll be sure to get to the bottom of whatever is causing these visions.”

      I smile, “Thanks Vivvy.”

      “Perhaps we won’t.”

      “Thanks Vivienne.”

      “That’s better.”

      Leliana smiles, “It is good to see you’re alive, Inquisitor.”

      “And you, Leliana. I can’t imagine how heartbroken Josie would have been.”

      Josephine blushes beside me.

      Leliana just glares at me.

      Harding walks from the tent, with some water skins, “Here. You’ll probably want something to drink.”

      The others take the skins in thanks and Cassandra gives Harding a hug, “Thank you, Lace.”

      “The pleasure is all mine, Cassandra.”

      I gently wrap my arms around Harding, “How are you?”

      “Great,” she beams.

      Though she doesn’t look it. The bruising has gone down around her neck, but I can still see them, purple and green. Bandages are wrapped around her chest, disappearing under her tunic, but I can tell she’s got a few broken ribs. Not to mention the cut starting from her wrist and ending just below her elbow.

      “Solas patched me up as best as he could. And I can breathe again, so that’s a start.”

      “Thank the Maker you’re alright.”

      “You guys seem a little worse for wear,” she says. I see her hesitate, “Cullen… he’s inside, with Solas.”

      I swallow back my fear, “I’ll… I’ll go speak to him then.”

      She nods, squeezing my hand as I enter the tent.

      It’s quite large, with bed rolls spread across the ground. This one must be for my inner circle, because Cullen is the only one occupying a bed roll.

      I’m sure many of the other wounded will be lying in the other tents around us—in the middle of the base so not to get attacked.

      My heart quickens, beating against my rib cage as I move towards Cullen.

      His curly hair is messy and his peaceful sleeping face has been cleaned of dirt and blood. But there are stitches cutting across his eyebrow and I can see the bandages around his toned torso. He’s out of his armour and I can see his chest rise and fall with each steady breath.

      “He is perfectly fine,” comes a voice.

      I jump at the sudden sound and turn to see Solas standing at the water basin, drying his hands on a cloth.

      “Solas,” I breathe. “You scared me.”

      “Sorry. I did not mean to startle you.” He looks at Cullen, “A few broken limbs, a cut on his brow and a slight concussion. But I’ve healed the broken bones… with magic.”

      I nod, “Thank you.”

      Solas cocks his head, “You do not mind that I used magic to heal a Templar?”        

      “Ex-Templar. And no. You used it for good, Solas,” I say with a smile.

      “Yes. Very well.”

      “Thank you. For healing everyone.”

      “It is my duty to serve the Inquisition in any way I can.”

      “That is very noble of you.”

      “Is it? Do you believe being Inquisitor is noble?”

      “It’s my job.”

      “Exactly. It is my job to help.”

      I blink, “Yes…”

      Solas just bows his head, “But you are very welcome, Lydia. I’m happy to help. Cullen will be fine, that I can promise you. He just needs his rest now.”

      Kneeling down next to Cullen, I gently run my fingers through his hair. I can see the bags under Solas’ eyes, “And I think you need to rest. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

      Solas nods in thanks.

      “How about a spiced wine? I know you don’t like tea, but spiced wine really calms me down.”

      “Ah yes, I do believe I’ve had spiced wine before. It’s quite… different. Especially the drink brewed in Skyhold.”

      I smile, “It’s certainly something.”

      “If you may, I could heal that wound on your cheek.”

      “Oh, it’s fine… I got is from Samson. I’ll keep it as a reminder of what we went through.” I hesitate for a second, but then meet Solas’ eyes, “I should’ve brought you to the temple, it was quite fascinating. I mean, even if my beliefs lie with the Maker… but still, there was a statue of the Dread Wolf…” I pause to make sure he’s still listening, which he is.

      “Go on,” he urges.

      I decide it would be best if he didn’t know about Mythal’s murder and how the Dread Wolf has nothing to do with her. “Morrigan had said the statue was almost as bad as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry.”

      “Oh?”

      “Is it really that bad? I mean, the Dread Wolf can’t be any worse the Maferath—he betrayed Andraste.”

      “Yes, but the Dread Wolf trapped the Elven gods into the Beyond.”

_No he didn’t._

      I nod, “A pretty smart being, to be able to trap gods.”

      Solas smiles, “He must have been.”

      Swallowing, I wave a hand, “You probably don’t want to hear me blabbering. I’ll let you go have some rest.”

      He nods, “Thank you. Be sure to save me some dinner.”

      “I’ll try. But I may eat it all.”

      He smiles one last time before leaving the tent.

      Looking down at Cullen’s sleeping face, I kiss his cheek, “Stay strong, Cullen.”

 

+++

 

Dorian plops himself right in front of me as I’m about to tell the climax of my story.

      I pause mid-sentence, looking at him, “Are you right there? I’m trying to be Varric.”

      “Which you’re very bad at,” comes Varric’s comments. “You don’t every have the chest hair.”

      “Well, my stories are better,” I say.

      Glancing around the massive bon fire, I can see soldiers, scouts, healers, the Empress and her men, my inner circle and the Chargers all sitting on logs, dinners in hand. They were all listening to my story when Dorian rudely interrupted.

      I was about to tell them how I stabbed Samson in the chest.

      “I need to heal that wound,” says Dorian, pulling out a few supplies from his pack. “It looks deep and I don’t want it to get infected.”

      I blink, “Oh. Go ahead Dorian.”

      He smiles, “I can’t imagine how bad that will be when you and Cullen make love tonight. He won’t be able to kiss your cheek.”

      I sigh, “I knew you were going to say that.”

      “Did you? You must be a mind reader, then.”

      Glancing at Cullen, he just eats his dinner, blushing. He’s woken up from his sleep, refreshed and feeling much better. I may have given him a kiss or two when he did. Varric slaps him on the back, grinning from ear to ear.

      Everyone else goes back to eating, chatting amongst themselves while Dorian readies his supplies.

      “It seems as though I have to look after you and Cassandra,” he says.

      “Oh come on, it’s a little cheek wound.”

      “A butt cheek wound, right?” yells Sera. She then breaks into a fit of laughter.

      I grin, “Unfortunately no butt wounds today, Sera.”

      “Ah, shite. That scratch is still mental though.”

      “Thank you.”

      Dorian just sighs, “I have to make sure you and Cassandra don’t get killed. So much pressure.”

      “I’m sure we can take care of ourselves.”

      “We killed a behemoth, did we not,” says Cassandra. “I think we did a wonderful job.”

      I flinch as Dorian applies some salve and he quickly apologises.

      “Yes, I think killing the behemoth was such a lovely team building exercise,” I say.

      Bull snorts, “And going through an ancient temple wasn’t?”

      “That was a different type of team building. We were all scared shitless,” says Dorian.

      “You were. I wasn’t,” I say.

      “Oh please,” he says. “How about when the spider landed on your neck.”

      “Do not remind me.”

      Dorian and Bull share a grin.

      “How big was the spider?” asks Harding.

      “As big as a coin,” says Dorian.

      “Well. I guess a spider’s still a spider. No matter how big or small. I can see why you still fear them, Lydia.”

      I grin, “See. Harding agrees with me. At least I know someone has my back. I’ve got yours, Harding. I know you’re a little queasy with heights.”

      “Ah yes. I prefer my feet to be on solid ground.”

      “I quite agree with you there, Harding,” says Dorian.

      “Pussy,” growls Bull.

      “Quite wrong, you are, Bull” says Dorian. “Harding and I just prefer to not fall to our deaths.”

      “If I can stay away from falling to my death, all the better,” nods Harding.

      When Dorian pulls the cloth away, I see how blood-soaked it actually is, “That came from my cheek?”

      “Butt cheek,” whispers Sera.

      “Yes. See, when I say something needs cleaning, you listen.”

      “Yes Father. I’ll be sure to listen.”

      Dorian just rolls his eyes.

      Cleaning the wound doesn’t take too much longer and I get on with my story, the others all listening to me.

      “… when Samson was stumbling backwards, a steel bolt and a piece of ice sticking out of his calf, I ran my sword right through his man boob,” I finish, my hands coming to clutch my chest with dramatic meaning.

      The Inquisition breaks into laughter, clapping at my performance.

      Harding grins at me when the cheering dies down, “Left man boob or right man boob?”

      “You always ask the real questions, Harding. Right. I didn’t want to stab him in the heart.”

      “Yet he was stilling breathing,” says Cassandra. “The armour protects him against the attack, even now. But we’ll be sure to bring him to justice.”

      I look at her, “You just took over my story.”

      “Yours was boring, I had to add in a better ending.”

      “I applaud Cassandra’s storytelling,” says Varric.

      “You’re just trying to nice up to her, so you can sleep with her again,” I say.

      Varric grins at a blushing Cassandra.

.

.

.

.

 

I grip the warm mug tighter, listening to the others speak of their stories from today.

      Krem and Bull retell their tale of how they got through the left side of the fighting—to meet back up with me at the temple.

      The hot cocoa I drink warms the pit of my stomach, but when Bull reaches the temple in his story, the drink makes me queasy.

      “When we got to the temple, Cullen and Leliana were already fighting some Venatori,” says Bull.

      “Chief, being chief, he ran into the middle of the bastards, taking them down in a few swings. But they had back up. Luckily, we did too.”

      Krem glances at Harding, whose head rests against my shoulder, hot cocoa halfway to her lips. She smiles sleepily at him.

      “The fight was close,” says Bull. “I nearly lost my other eye.”

      “At least you’re still in one piece,” says Dorian.

      “Then the Inquisitor came and saved us all,” he says.

      Everyone grins at me, but I’m not smiling. We were going to lose that fight if I hadn’t have used that power. Opening Rifts is dangerous and we were lucky that I could actually do it. It’s a curse. Rifts are meant to be closed, not opened.

      I swallow, “Yeah, lucky save.”

      Bull frowns, “She ordered us to go back to base. She put us first, knowing we wouldn’t be able to handle another fight. Knowing she would have to face whatever shit was in that temple with only a handful of her fighters. They were all brave, all fierce. And they’re all here to tell the tale. Perhaps that is a miracle, or maybe just plain luck. But whatever it is, I’m glad they’re all still with us.”

      My eyes move to Bull’s and he smiles, “To the Inquisitor. For always being there for us.” He holds up his drink and soon, many more follow. Everyone holds their drinks in the air and Bull stands, “To Lydia, Cassandra, Dorian, Varric and Morrigan, for continuing on when we couldn’t.”

      I have to clench my jaw to stop the tears. Cheers erupt around the bon fire as the others join in on Bull’s toast.

      Dorian wraps an arm around the Qunari’s massive frame, whispering something into his ear.

      And I smile, holding my drink up as well, “To the Inquisition for being the best force I could ever ask for.”

      That gets even more cheers.

      And so, with the night air dropping to a nice freezing, we begin finishing up for the day. People begin heading to their tents and my inner circle says their good nights.

      Large braziers burn across the camp and whoever’s been put on night watch have close to the flames. Cullen, being the Commander of the army, has to be one of those doing the night watch. Much to my disagreement.

      “You’re still hurt,” I say as he buckles his sheath to his belt.

      “I’ll be fine, Lydia. Morrigan said Corypheus has run back to wherever black hole he’s come from, to lick his wounds.”

      I grip his hand, “Morrigan said a lot of things yet some of them weren’t true.”

      “We’ll just have to… trust her. And trust me, Lydia. I’ll be fine.” He kisses my forehead and I savour the feeling. He hums, “If anything happens, I’ll wake you.”

      “Good. And… and make sure no giant spiders get in. I’ve heard their screeches.”

      He smiles. That darn smile that always makes my knees go weak, “I’ll protect you from them.”

      “That’s so sweet,” drools Dorian. “Now if you excuse me, I have a Bull to ride.”

      Iron Bull grins.

      “Oh please, rub it in, why don’t you,” I snap.

      “Sorry that you fell for a Commander who has responsibilities with night watches.”

      “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time when we get back to Skyhold,” I say.

      Cullen smiles, “I’d like that.”

      I kiss Cullen on the cheek and Dorian yells a goodnight before disappearing into one of the tents at the edge of the camp. Cullen moves off to his post.

      Harding begins walking away with Krem beside her and Cassandra and Varric are heading to their tent.

      “Wait, wait, wait!” I yell, walking towards the two couples. “Where do you think you two are going?”

      Cassandra blinks, “To bed.”

      “What, you’re leaving me in a tent by myself?”

      “Yes, that was the plan.”

      “No. You two are coming with me,” I say, pulling both Harding and Cassandra towards my tent. “There are spiders out here. I’m not sleeping by myself.”

      Varric glances at Krem, “She’s willing to leave us by ourselves.”

      “I’m the Inquisitor. I can do whatever I want.”

      “I was planning on spending the night with Varric,” says Cassandra. “And I’m sure Lace had plans with Krem.”

      Harding blinks, “I may have…”

      “Too bad,” I say with a small grin. “Cassandra, I have the latest chapter of _Swords & Shields_ in my tent for you to reread. And Harding, there’s cake.”

      “Krem or cake… a hard decision,” says Harding.

      “Hey! I’m much better,” comes Krem’s response.

      “She chooses cake,” I say with a grin, pushing them towards my tent. “So long fellas. See you in the morning.”

      I hear Krem and Varric complain about the cold night, but they trudge off to their tents. And we move off to ours.

      Grinning at Cassandra and Harding, they begin to settle into their spots.

      Pulling the furs up to my chin, I settle in as well. My limbs are heavy from fighting and my eyelids are already beginning to shut.

      Cassandra has the chapter of _Swords & Shields_ in her hand, eyes following the words as she reads. Harding is curled up on my other side, furs scrunched up around her.

      “Good night,” she says.

      “Sleep tight,” I say.

      “Don’t let the giant spiders bite,” comes Cassandra’s voice.

      “But seriously. Don’t let them,” I say.

      “I’ll be sure they don’t come in here.”

      “Thank you.”

      My eyes shut and I can already feel the pull of sleep.

      Nothing’s better than having the comfort of my two best friends to ease away the fear of the ever looming threat of Corypheus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia doesn’t like sleeping by herself, it seems! And who doesn't love Bull when he starts toasting to the group!? But yes, we’re finally moving back to Skyhold. And if I’ve planned correctly, we are getting to the end of this very long story. Ah, Game of Thrones has inspired me to write such an epic tale, so hopefully it’s up to your standards! The next few chapters will just be some housekeeping so to speak, then we move onto the final piece… so exciting!


	78. Chapter 77

I look at the porridge, brown, sticky and slopped into my bowl, “Looks… delicious.”

      Harding stares at her own bowl then to me, “Yeah… it looks very well… made.”

      It doesn’t look cooked at all. Arbor Wilds breakfast may not be the best breakfast to have. With more than 200 soldiers to feed, the quality of porridge is certainly not top priority.

      Scooping a spoonful of porridge onto my spoon, I hold it up, but the goopy food just sloshes back into the bowl.

      Harding has to bite her bottom lip to keep in her laugh. She tries to scoop her own porridge onto her spoon, but it just falls off.

      “I love eating air,” she says.

      “It tastes wonderful.”

      Krem glances at us, a mouthful of porridge in his mouth, “I’ll eat your serve if you’re not having it.”

      Harding stares at her lover, “You’re not seriously eating that, are you?”

      “When you work for the chief, you learn to eat whatever is available,” he says. “Even if it’s slimy porridge.”

      Her lip curls in disgust, “I am not going anywhere near you until you clean your teeth then.”

      I grin, “Why, don’t want slimy porridge germs, Harding?”

      “No thank you.”

      Krem just grins, porridge stuck to his teeth.

      “You’re such a child,” Harding says.

      Cassandra sits down beside me, her own bowl in hand. She begins eating the porridge without any fuss and Krem gestures to her, “She doesn’t mind.”

      “No, I don’t,” says Cassandra. “And you two better eat something. I don’t want you hungry on our ride back to Skyhold.”

      “Are you being our Mother again?” I ask.

      “If that’s what it takes to get you two to eat, then yes.”

      Harding glances at the food again, “I just… it’s slimy and what’s that black thing in there?”

      “That’s a seed,” says Krem, standing from his spot on the log.

      “Eat,” urges Cassandra. “Or you two won’t have any energy.”

      “Energy for what?” asks Harding. “I’m sitting on a horse for most of the day.”

      I glance at her, “What about most of the night? You’ll need your energy for that.”

      She narrows her eyes, “For sleeping?” Then she jerks, “Oh! Oh? Oh, yeah… I’ll need energy for that.”

      Krem coughs, “I’m leaving. But yes, energy may be needed.” He winks at Harding before moving off to saddle his horse.

      Harding takes a spoonful of porridge and gulps it down quickly, so not to taste it. She coughs back her disgust, “I can still taste it… let’s just say it doesn’t taste like porridge.”

      “Wonderful. Porridge that doesn’t taste like porridge,” I say. But Cassandra gives me a look and I hold up my spoon, “Okay, okay. I’m eating.”

      And so Harding and I do, without any more complaints. Though, I do see Josephine look at the food in disgust.

      We had proposed that half of the forces will stay in the Arbor Wilds, to make sure the remains of Corypheus’ own forces are destroyed. And to see if there’s any sign of Abelas or the other elves. Though, I doubt they got out.

      The other half, including my inner circle, advisors and the Chargers are all leaving this morning, to get ready for our next attack.

      I’m glad to be leaving, if I’m honest. The Arbor Wilds don’t just scare the shit out of me, it just isn’t a nice place to be in. The giant spiders for one, but also the bugs, poisonous fungus and plants. One soldier touched the red fungus and came down with the worst rash I’ve ever seen. I’m just glad Dorian didn’t end up like that.

      And I need to eat something better than this crappy porridge.

      Harding and I gulp down the rest, trying not to think about the taste and we begin saddling our horses.

      Dorian waltzes up to us, a small smirk on his face, “Good morning my dear friends.”

      I glance at the mage, keeping my hands busy with the saddle, “How are you my dear Dorian?”

      “Quite wonderful. It is a beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

      “We could hear you.”

      “Ah, you must have heard someone else, correct?”

      “You were at the edge of the base. We were in the middle.”

      “Perhaps it was a couple of spiders trying to make more babies.”

      “Dorian,” I say. “You screamed ‘I’m riding the Bull’. I think everyone knows it was you.”

      The mage just grins, “Well, at least I got some pleasure out of being here.”

      Groaning, I turn back to my horse, “I could hear.”

      Dorian looks to Harding, “I’m sure Lydia was dreaming.”

      “That may be, but I did hear someone yell ‘This is so much better in a tent’,” says Harding.

      I snort, “Really?”

      Cassandra looks up, “Not to mention that your tent was ripped by the morning.”

      Dorian grins, “Well, I must admit. It was much better in a tent. It was more intimate… more satisfying.”

      “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I say. “It certainly sounded that way.”

      “Yes well, I’m sure you would have done the same if Cullen was with you.”

      “Unfortunately I don’t have as much confidence as you and Bull to scream across the camp so everyone knows what you’re up to.”

      “A pity.” He glances at Harding, “And my dear Lace, you’re too innocent to do that sort of thing.”

      “I wouldn’t say innocent. Just adorable, but in a little package of murder,” I say. “She’s cute, she’s got class, yet she’ll stab you in the ass.”

      “Beautiful,” says Harding.

      Krem looks at us from across the stables, “You’ve used that before, Inquisitor.”

      “It’s what seduced you to kiss her,” I yell back.

      “I do more than kiss her,” comes Krem’s voice.

      “Right. Okay, let’s yell this conversation so the whole camp can hear,” says Harding.

      “Do more than kiss her?” Like what?” I yell a little louder to Krem.

      “Oh, many things, Inquisitor. My talents are endless.”

      Cassandra’s smiling behind her horse, while Harding’s hiding behind her own horse.

      “Just be gentle with her,” comes a new voice. It’s Leliana’s. “I would like to keep Scout Harding. She’s one of my best.”

      Krem goes completely red and Harding nearly faints from embarrassment.

      “Don’t worry, Leliana,” I say. “Harding’s got a lot of stamina.”

      “Ah yes, I forgot.”

      Harding pushes me toward my horse, “Let’s just move on, shall we?”

      Cullen appears from his tent, “Maker’s breath, I can hear you all yelling. I’m trying to sleep.”

      I grin, “You missed it all Cullen!”

      “Yes, what a shame.” Though he does smile at me.

      “Right,” I say. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

      “Yep,” urges Harding. “Let’s go.”

      I can’t help but let out a laugh.

 

+++

 

 

The ride back to Skyhold is long and torturous. Not only is my army halved, but the loses we suffered in the fighting have been counted.

      Leliana rode up to me not even three hours into the ride with a list of all those we lost. We’ll be having a burial for them when the other half of the force returns to Skyhold.

      She squeezed my shoulder in comfort, “Their at the Maker’s side.”

      Even Cassandra gave me a small hand squeeze.

      I haven’t said anything for the rest of the ride. And we’ve still got an hour left.

      The burden of being the Inquisitor: having to face reality. No matter how much fun I have with the others, how much teasing we do, there’s always the others that didn’t survive. That fought for me, yet their lives were cut short. And it’s hard.

      The guilt eats into my heart, like the mark eats into my flesh.

      I don’t know if it gets any easier, but I hope it does.

      Cassandra glances at me, “Lydia?”

      “Yes?”

      “I hear of a celebration when we get back to Skyhold. Did you want to join in?”

      I blink, “A celebration? I hope there’s better porridge.”

      “Caramel cake,” comes her reply. “There better be caramel cake.”

      “No way, chocolate cake is better.”

      “You don’t appreciate the text caramel cake has. Nothing else is like it,” says Cassandra. I can tell she’s trying to cheer me up… and it’s working.

      “Oh please, chocolate cake is much better. It just has that… _moist_ texture to it.”

      Cassandra shudders, “Do not say that word.”

      “What? Texture?”

      “No. The other one.”

      “Chocolate cake?”

      Cassandra throws her hands in the air, “No! Maker take me. You’re hopeless.”

      I grin, “Moist?”

      Cassandra’s eyes darken as she looks at me, “Do not say it.”

      “Moist? What’s so bad about moist?”

      “Ew, Quizzy, stop saying that,” comes Sera’s voice.

      Even Harding’s lip is curled in disgust.

      “Alright, I won’t say moist again.”

      “Stop it!” Harding, Sera and Cassandra yell at the same time.

      I nearly fall of my horse.

      Cassandra glares at me, “The word is… unpleasant.”

      “It’s been used in _Swords & Shields_ before,” I argue.

      “Yes, but that’s different. The word is written. One can easily skip over it. But when you say it, the word just sounds… ghastly.”

      “Ghastly?”

      “Yes.”

      “Agreed,” nods Harding.

      “Yes, it would be great if you could reframe from using that word in our meetings,” comes Josephine’s voice from behind us.

      “I’ll be sure not to use the word,” I say.

      “Good, I’m glad we agree.”

      The rest of the hour goes relatively fast with us chatting about the latest gossip. Which Vivienne mostly knows about. And Josephine adds in her few stories every now and then. Mostly about who’s with who and who did what.

      But I feel caught up on all things gossip by the time they’ve finished telling me everything. Which is great, I need to know what’s happening around the Inquisition.

      It’s late afternoon by the time we’re nearly home and since we left early this morning, we’ve moved quite fast. Considering the march to the Wilds took all night.

      Walking over the newly renovated bridge to Skyhold, Sera peeks out over the frozen lake. The ice is still broken from when the dragon broke free, but it’s so cold up here that the lake is beginning to freeze over again.

      “The dragon came from there, yeah?”

      I nod, “Yep. That’s where Cassandra woke it up.”

      She sends me a look, “The rock woke it up.”

      “But it was your throw,” I say.

      “I would not do such a thing.”

      “Oh of course, Seeker Cassandra, the one who never does anything stupid,” I say.

      “Except for interrogating me,” cuts Varric.

      Cassandra shoots him a look, “That was not stupid. I needed information.”

      The skeleton crew left at Skyhold greet us as we ride into the gates. The cooks, stable hands and some soldiers stayed to make sure everything was in order when we got back.

      Dismounting my horse, I stretch my back. After hours of riding, I’m glad to be standing. Cassandra moves off to unpack her things while Harding helps with the supplies.

      Leliana looks at me and tilts her head towards the keep.

      Of course we need to have a meeting.

      I dismiss my inner circle to do as they please while I have the meeting.

      Moving up to the keep, Josephine joins me.

      “Maker, I’m glad that ride’s over.”

      I smile at her, “Don’t like having a horse between your legs?”

      “I would prefer to walk. Though, walking that far would take me years.”

      I grin, “Not to mention you’d have to walk through streams and mud.”

      She shudders, “It would be a shame to get my dress wet.”

      I slap her armoured shoulder, “Though you look pretty amazing in the armour, Josie. I caught Leliana staring at you for most of the ride home.”

      Josephine blushes, “I’m quite used to it now, I think. The steel isn’t too heavy.”

      “Wear it all the time, I’m sure Leliana will have a ball unstrapping that at night.”

      Josephine just gives me a look.

      Reaching the war room, we arrive a little late as I had to send my weapons in for sharpening at the undercroft. Dagna was excited for our return. And when I told her about Samson being captured, she begged me to keep his armour for her to experiment on. I still don’t know if that’s a good idea or not.

      But Cullen looks up from the map, “Lydia. I’m pleased to report we won the battle. When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I’m not sure why. My men couldn’t find any evidence last night.”

      “What he wanted was no longer within the temple,” says Morrigan.

      “Perhaps. He spent so long trying to get into the temple, he probably couldn’t have helped his forces by that point.”

      “Then Corypheus is finished?” asks Josephine.

      “If he is wise, he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again,” says Leliana.

      “He will not hide,” says Morrigan.

      I frown, “Meaning he will attack us directly, at Skyhold?”

      “Not necessary, but neither will he remain idle.”

      “And how could you have such insight into his plans?” asks Leliana, slightly suspicious.

      “The Well of Sorrows held many voices and they speak to me now from across the ages,” says Morrigan. “They hold wisdom, secrets I never dreamed possible. But even they fear what Corypheus has become.”

      “Should we fear him more than his army?” I ask.

      “Possibly.”

      Just great.

      “Luckily for you, he has a weakness.”

      I regard Morrigan, “Go on.”

      “The dragon he calls is not truly an Archdemon. It is a dragon, in which Corypheus has invested part of his being. He doubtless did so out of pride, to emulate the gods of old. That pride can be exploited.” Morrigan smiles at me, “Kill the dragon and his ability to leap into other bodies is disrupted. He can be slain.”

      A shred of hope lights in my heart. But still…

      “Killing the dragon won’t be an easy feat,” I say. “Your saw how badly the last one ended. Harding nearly got eaten and I got a tooth stuck in my arm.”

      “There is a way to defeat the dragon, to match Corypheus in his power. The Well whispers it to me now,” says Morrigan.

      Not creepy at all.

      “Your help will be required, Inquisitor. Speak to me when you are ready and we will begin. Though I do believe we can rest for today. The ride was no small feat.”

      She nods at my three advisors in turn and spins on her heel, “I’ll be with Kieran in the gardens. Do have a good night.” She leaves us to the war room.

      Glancing at the others, I swallow, “Do we… trust her?”

      “If she has the power, I say let her. We need as much help as we can get,” says Leliana.

      Josephine looks at me, “Just be careful, Inquisitor.”

      “Yes,” agrees Cullen. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

      Leliana hides a smile behind her hood, “How sweet, Commander.”

      “Yes, well. Someone’s got to protect Lydia. She spends most of her time protecting us.”

      I can feel the heat on my face, “You’re making me blush.”

      “I’m sure he does that every night,” says Josephine.

      “I’ll see to Skyhold’s defenses in the meantime,” says Cullen, trying to divert the topic back to what’s important.                                                                                          

      “And the supplies?” continues Josephine. “Have they been sent to the Arbor Wilds?”

      “Yes,” nods Cullen. “They should receive them soon. Those strange plants and fungus are trouble. We don’t need stomach cramps sweeping the army.”

      “Any message back from them?”

      “No, not yet. I do believe we’ll receive one tomorrow though. Hopefully they can tell us the state of Corypheus’ army.”

      Most the meeting is tense as we try to plan some better defenses for Skyhold, while we also try to help people sending in requests. It’s slow and painful, but when we finish, Leliana pulls back her hood. Something I’ve only seen her do once before.

      She runs a hand through her red hair, “I do believe we’re finished for today.”

      Josephine nods, “Dinner should be ready by now. How about we go get some.”

      “I’d like that,” I say.

 

+++

 

 All of the girls curl around the massive bed and I’m in the middle. The bed is thanks to Josephine, when she planned the renovations of Skyhold. She allowed me to receive the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Cullen and I have the luxury of it every night.

      But tonight, it can fit all of my friends on it.

      Sera lies on her stomach at the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the edge. Josephine and Leliana sit at the edge, legs crossed. Harding’s curled up next to me, grinning from ear to ear. Vivienne sits at the edge, her robes swept around her.

      Cassandra sits up beside me, gripping my arm, “Hurry up and read it!”

      I hold the book out in front of me. The newest _Swords & Shields_ chapter. Varric had finished it this afternoon. And according to Cassandra, he’s kept most of the book a secret—she doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

      We keep our drinks on the bedside table, ready for the game to begin. Every time the word ‘moist’ comes up in the book, we all have to take a mouthful of our drinks.

      Grinning, I open to the first page, “Get ready everyone. Harding, you’re up to date on the story, right?”

      “Yep. Knight-Captain’s about to get some,” she says beside me.

      “And it will be beautiful,” whispers Cassandra. We all look at the Seeker and she blushes, “Continue Lydia.”

      Josephine smiles, “I’m sure this book will satisfy you Cassandra, I have heard Varric chatting to Bull about it.”

      “Wonderful!” I say. “Let’s see if Varric’s written some of his own experiences in here, plus using the word moist.”

      Cassandra shoots me a glare, “He would never.”

      I clear my throat, “ _The Knight-Captain’s long red hair was spread out across the pillow, her lover’s lips moving along her bare skin_ … wow, right into it. Alright.”

      “Just read it!” urges Cassandra.

      “ _Her lover licked his lips to moisten them…”_

      “Ah, balls!” yells Sera.

      And we all take a drink from our tankards.

      I cough, swallowing the bitter wine, “ _The warrior couldn’t help but let out a moan as her lover_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to leave it there for your imaginations to run wild. Cassandra’s fangirling as usual and let’s not forget the disgusting porridge. Inspired by true events, I must admit. Camping in the Australian outback certainly has its downs. (Not to mention the spiders!) And I’ve taken a dive for the worse in the Scout Harding/ Krem ship and it’s hitting me hard!!! But more of the way!


	79. Chapter 78

A strong arm wraps around me, draped over my waist. I instinctively move closer, the slow release of sleep moving through my body. When I turnover, smiling softly, I pull the furs over my shoulders. It’s awfully cold this morning.

      I must have left the windows open.

      Eyes cracking open, I yawn. But it’s not Cullen beside me.

      I scream, jerking back and Cassandra’s own eyes snap open, her arm shooting away from me.

      Sitting up, my hand lands on something soft and when I turn, I notice Harding beside me, jolting from my sudden touch. She sits bolt upright, eyes wide, hair tussled from sleep.

      Leliana shifts in a blink of an eye, moving from her spot nestled into Josephine’s side. Her eyes are wild and Josephine starts next to her, floundering in the furs to try and untangle herself. Autumn, the cat, is curled up in between Cassandra’s legs, sleeping peacefully.

      Sera, whose body is spread out over the whole bed, twitches, “Just say what?” But she comes to her senses and looks at us.

      And we’re all looking at each other.

      Somehow, I managed to start a domino effect of us waking up. Go me.

      Harding shivers, wrapping the furs around her, but stops midway. Her eyes are frozen on something and when I follow her gaze, I realise why.

      Iron Bull, Dorian, Cullen, Krem, Varric, Blackwall, Vivienne and Cole stand in front of us. And to make matters worse, we’re not in my chambers.

      We’re _outside._

My once pristine mattress now sits in the middle of the courtyard, with dried mud staining the sheets. Tuffs of grass are stuck to the side of the mattress, along with a few ants scuttling along.

      Josephine moves away from the edge of the mattress, keeping away from those ants.

 Bull can’t hold in his laugh much longer and he has to clutch his chest as his continues to laugh. Krem’s forehead is against Bull’s side as he cackles next to his boss. Dorian is grinning, while Varric and Cullen snort back their laughs.

      “Early morning, lazy, quiet. In the arms of my lover,” says Cole. “Too skinny. Eyes open. It’s the Inquisitor.” He’s looking at Cassandra.

      I bury my face in my hands, trying to hide my own laugh.

      Cassandra groans, “I thought I was in my own bed.”

      “I’m glad I could bring comfort to you,” I tease. “Though, I don’t have the chest hair like Varric.”

      “Ugh.” But even she pulls the furs up to cover her shoulders, “Why are we outside? Do I dare ask?”

      Dorian lets out a small laugh, “Excellent question, Cassandra.”

      Vivienne sends us a smile, “Believe me my dears. It was not my idea.”

      I glare at Cullen, whose gone red from trying to hold in his laugh, “Tell us.”

      But he just shakes his head.

      Iron Bull sucks in a breath, “You all fell asleep on the mattress.”

      “Like most people do,” I say.

      But he grins, “Some handsome young Qunari had the great idea of moving the mattress outside. None of you woke up.”

      Cassandra glances at me, then to Bull, “You moved us down here because…?”

      “Why not?”

      “Ugh.”

      “Agreed,” I say. “Ugh.”

      Leliana looks around, “You do realise that you are going to have to pay for a new mattress for the Inquisitor.”

      Bull’s smile fades and he grumbles something.                                                          

      “You can all pay,” I say. “I’m sure Bull wasn’t the only one to carry us down.”

      “For what it’s worth, we gave you more furs to use,” says Cullen.

      “Trying to sound like the good guy, are you?” I ask. “I think we all deserve breakfast in bed. What do you say, girls?”

      “I’d love that,” says Harding.

      Sera sits up, “Oh shite. Morning pee coming in.”

      Cassandra shoves her off the mattress, “Do not piss on the mattress!”

      Sera scrambles to her feet, “I’ll piss on your face, Cassandra!” But she runs off to the nearest outhouse.

      I turn to the others, “Anyone else up for a morning pee? Bull, perhaps you should sit in the outhouse for a while, just to think about what you’ve done.”

      “Quite marvelous, though. You must admit,” says Dorian.

      “I love sleeping in the cold,” mutters Harding.

      “And where did you put the book?” asks Cassandra.

      “It’s alright Seeker, I’ve got it here,” says Varric, holding up the copy of _Swords & Shields_. “It had fallen across your face when you all fell asleep.”

      I laugh, “She was making sure those tips would never leave her head.”

      Cassandra just shoves me playfully.

      Autumn meows, stretching her front legs as she yawns. Cassandra gives her a soft pat and the cat stands to stretch. But Autumn seems to sense something and gives us a curt meow before bolting into the bushes.

      “Good work Harding, you scared it off,” I say.

      “Hey, I didn’t even touch her,” comes the dwarf’s reply. But she grins, “Must have gotten jealous of have awesome I am.”

      “That is exactly why she ran off,” says Cassandra.

      But something moves in the corner of my eye and I turn to it. A piece of mud must have gotten stuck on the furs near my leg.

      But then the blob of mud moves.

      Everyone’s looking at it, but I can feel the shift in the air.

      Harding’s body grows rigid and Cassandra doesn’t blink.

      But me? My heart begins to beat faster, thumping against my chest. My fingers grip at the sheets behind me and I try to move backwards, but the thing moves again.

      Towards me.

      A spider, the size of my hand.

      No.

      No.

      No.

      Not that.

      I think my own morning pee is coming.

      The spider is hairy, long thick legs curling from its body. I can see its eight eyes, seemingly looking at me, dark and unblinking. To make matters worse, its abdomen is massive, a sharp spike on its butt. A poisonous barb. That’s why Autumn bolted.

      Cassandra’s arm is against my chest, urging me to move slowly.

      Leliana keeps her eyes on the spider, while gently pushing Josephine away from it. Even Bull doesn’t know what to do. If he scares it, the beast could run towards me. And that’s not a good thing.

      The spider sits on the furs, in between Harding’s and my leg.

      I choke back a scream when it lifts a hairy leg.

      Harding glances at me then to the spider, “Piss off spider.”

      “You tell it,” I whisper.

      Cullen takes a step, but the spider twitches, sensing his approach.

      I let out a shriek, “Please don’t let it touch me.”

      Leliana hands Cassandra a dagger, though where the spymaster got the dagger from is a mystery. Probably from her hidden sheath.

      Cassandra looks at me then lowers the dagger towards the spider, keeping her other arm protectively across my torso.

      I shake my head, “You’re going to get blood all over the—”

      She slams the blade down, sending both Harding and I scrambling away. The furs get tangled in my legs but Harding yanks me free, the two of us screaming as we rush for safety. I’m gripping Harding for dear life, arms and legs wrapped around her short frame, as she tries to get me away from the spider. Cullen plucks me from her grip, holding me away from the mattress.

      Harding is lying face down on the ground, breathing heavily. She must have tripped. But she did save my life.

      I swallow, gripping Cullen’s fur cloak, “Thank you Lace.”

      “The pleasure was all mine,” I hear her say. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece.”

      “I’m glad to see I didn’t break your back.”

      I was curled around her—it would’ve been a struggle to hold me up.

      Cassandra looks at me, holding up the dagger and the spider is stuck on the tip of the blade, its massive belly stabbed. Blood drips onto the furs.

      Bull lunges forward, scooping up Harding, and snatching the dagger from Cassandra’s hand. He then pegs it as far as he can, the dagger and spider disappearing over the battlements.

      “Luckily that wasn’t my favourite dagger,” mumbles Leliana.

      Bull places Harding back on her feet and looks at me, “Boss, we didn’t know there would be spiders out here. Sorry.”

      I let out the breath I was holding, “It’s fine Bull. You just wanted a bit of fun. I really don’t mind.” Though my legs are a little shaky. Cullen rubs my back.

      Bull slaps my shoulder, “I’m glad you survived the spider.”

      “It was a close call,” I say. “But Cassandra stabbed it for me and Hardin huled me out of there.”

      “That’s what friends are for,” Harding says.

      “Yes. I am glad to help,” says Cassandra, watching me. “Are you alright?”

      “Perfect.”

      “Perhaps breakfast is in order,” she says.

      I nod vigorously and Harding does the same.

      “But first,” I say, running towards the outhouse, “I have to do my morning pee.”

     

 

+++

 

I sit on the spiky throne, hands dangling awkwardly in my lap. The blocky throne I sit on is carved from rock, with spikes radiating out from the top of the chair. The seat is cushioned with a red pillow and the arm rests are thick and cold. I had Solas paint Hallas along the base of the throne to give it a more personal taste.

      I always hated these judgments. Everyone expects me to judge fairly, but most of the time, I’ve no clue what I’m doing.

      But I’ve calmed down from my experience this morning and Josephine insisted that I take the throne to judge Samson.

      The man who would destroy the world.

      The crowd watch on, the hush falling across the keep.

      “Forgive me, Inquisitor,” says Cullen, coming to stand beside me, a writing board in hand. “For personal interest, I have relieved Josephine. As you might expect.” He seems nervous, but I give him a smile and he continues, “Knight-Templar Samson, General to Corypheus, traitor to the Order. The blood on his hands cannot be measured.”

      Two guards drag in a chained Samson, pushing the Templar towards me. His eyes are still blood-shot, armour burned onto his skin. The hole in his chest has been patched up, but he looks much weaker. He keeps his head bowed.

      “His head is too valuable to take,” says Cullen. “Kirkwall, Orlais: many would see him suffer. I can’t say I’m not one of them.”

      I nod, “Judging him will affect as many as his crimes. I won’t take it lightly.”

      “The red Lyrium will steal your vengeance,” says Samson, looking up. “You know what it does. Corypheus only delayed my corruption.”

      “Are you still loyal to that thing?” asks Cullen. “He poisoned the Order, used them to kill thousands!”

      “Templars have always been used. How many were left to rot, like I was, after the Chantry burned away their minds? Piss on it,” he spits. “I followed him so Templars could at least die at their best! Same lies as the Chantry. The Prophet just isn’t as pretty.”

      I clench my jaw, “I found your people. They believed in you. Believed your cause was righteous.”

      Samson glares at me, “Not your business, Inquisitor.”

      Cullen’s steps forward, “Your friend Maddox was so loyal, he killed himself. For you.”

      “They were always going to die. I saw what Corypheus was doing, so yes, I fed them hope instead of despair. I made them believe their pain had purpose. Just like the Chantry does.” He laughs cruelly, “Right, Commander? It ended as well as anything else I’ve done.”

      The quick change of sadness in his voice makes me stop.

      He doesn’t look at anyone, “Corypheus would kill me on sight. I’ll tell your people what they want. Everything I cared about is destroyed.”

      Cullen and I share a look.

      He could be of use, couldn’t he? His armour is destroyed, he’s slowly succumbing to red Lyrium poisoning and his whole life has been ruined. But, beneath all that, could he become good?

      Cullen nods at me, telling me to do as I please.

      My chest tightens at the words I’m about to say. If Samson proves me wrong, I’ll personally shove a blade up his ass.

      “Very well. Samson, you will spend your remaining years serving the Inquisition. Cullen will be your handler. Perhaps he can get something useful out of you.”

      “I doubt the Commander believes there’s anything worthy left in me,” mumbles Samson.

      “You’re not wrong. But you served something greater than yourself once. Perhaps you can be made to remember that.”

      Nodding to the guards, they take Samson by the arms, dragging him back to the bare chambers he occupies—with a 24 hour watch outside his door.

      The crowd mumbles to each other, but I can see my inner circle at the back, giving me smiles and thumbs ups. But the court session is over and people begin to head back to their chores.

      Cullen walks towards me, extending a hand to help me from the throne. Thanking him, we move away from the throne, the last of the crowd leaving the keep.

      “I’m sorry to do that to you,” I say.

      “Do what?” he asks as we walk across the keep.

      “Push Samson onto you. I just thought—”

      “Lydia, I’m grateful that you did. I’ll have Samson on a chain where I can see him. He won’t be hurting anyone.”

      “If he hurts you, I’ll be sticking a blade up where the sun doesn’t shine.”

      Cullen chuckles, music to my ears, “That’s very kind of you.” But he frowns, “Samson took everything from those Templars. He corrupted their souls, twisted them into everything they stood against. Everything they would have hated.”

      “I know the red Templars fight for Corypheus, but I feel sorry for them,” I say.

      “They’re barely human now,” says Cullen. “The red Lyrium left Samson’s mind unaltered. He _knew_ what he was doing. He dares speak as though it were a mercy? That man’s a monster. I pray his information is useful. His life is good for little else.”

      “Cullen… Samson is everything you say, but it’s over. You have to let this go,” I urge. I just know he’ll never stop thinking about ways to get Samson to talk. Cullen’s not one to give up on things either, but we’ve got Samson. We’ve brought justice.

      “Over for us, perhaps. For Samson,” he says. “Not for those still controlled by Corypheus. The red Templars needed to be torn down. We’ve broken Corypheus’ army.” He hesitates and he lowers his head, “I might have known some of them. If my life had gone differently—I might have _been_ one of them. Do you… ever wonder what would have happened if you had not been at the Conclave? If you’d never become the Inquisitor.”

      I look at him, “A life without you?” I give him a smile, “Never.”

      Cullen smiles back, “And I couldn’t think of a life without you.” He kisses my forehead, “Now go see Cassandra. She’s hitting that training dummy awfully hard.”

      I glance over at her. The Seeker’s face is twisted in determination, sword poised for the next strike. My eyes move back to Cullen, “I’ll see you tonight?”

      “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

      He moves off to his office and I can’t help but smile. His armour-clad form is certainly much more enjoyable when he’s not wearing anything.

      Walking towards Cassandra, I can hear her breaths as she hits the dummies, shield smashing against them, sword slicing through them.

      She straightens when she sees me, “Lydia. I trust you’ve recovered from your spider attack?”

      “A vicious attack, might I add,” I say.

      “Of course.” She sheaths her weapon and straps the shield to her back. “And judging Samson went well?”

      “I’ve got Cullen as his handler. Hopefully he can kick him into gear.”

      “Good. If anyone can gain information from Samson, it’s Cullen.” She gestures and together we start walking. Cassandra hesitates, “I am sorry if I scared you before. I should have thought of a better way to kill that spider.”

      “Oh Cassandra, seriously. At least you killed it. For all I know, I could still be frozen in shock if you didn’t act.”

      She smiles, “I am just glad it didn’t hurt you.”

      I wave my hand, “As long as it doesn’t touch me, I’m fine.”

      Walking in silence, we’ve made our way to the parapets, overlooking the icy valley. Cassandra leans against the stone, “We have not talked about the Arbor Wilds yet.”

      “What about the Arbor Wilds?”

      “The Archdemon might have been a real threat to our army, but it flew off once we turned the tide. It is still out there, however. I wonder what Corypheus plans now.”

      “We’ll deal with whatever he throws at us,” I say.

      She looks at me, “Do not under estimate Corypheus. He is powerful and you are yet to fight him one on one. But he will come. You will get you chance.”

      I can’t help but laugh, “You don’t seem concerned about that.”

      But Cassandra takes my hand, “I am terrified. Yet, I have faith in you, Lydia.”

      I swallow hard, “But what if… what if I can’t do this?”

      “You can. You are not a mistake. Remember that.”

      She leads me, her hand still tightly gripping mine, along the parapets, “Not long ago, this was impossible to imagine. You, a valued friend—my best friend. Victory close at hand. The time has come to consider what will come next.”

      We meet gazes and I quickly tear my gaze away, choking back the clawing sadness, “You’ll be the next Divine, I assume.”

       “That has not happened yet,” she says, squeezing my hand tighter.

      “But it may.”

      “Lydia, if the Maker wills it, then yes—I will answer His call. But Leliana is still a candidate. And Vivienne—she was also put forth.”

      I just nod.

      “‘ _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked_ …’”

      “‘ _And do not falter_ ’,” I finish.

      She gives me a smile, “You have come far, Lydia. It has been an honour.”

      I blink and she wraps me into a hug, strong arms keeping me grounded. Her gloved hands are warm though, pressed against my back.

      Swallowing, I try to think of the right words, “Do you want to leave him?”

      “It is not about what I want.”

      “Yes it is! They can’t just drag you away from Varric.” I hold her gaze, placing a hand on her armoured chest, where her heart is, “Follow your heart, Cassandra. Varric is a great man.”

      She just nods, “One of the best men I’ve ever met.”

      “Not only great with words, but with his tongue too, apparently.”

      She playfully slaps my arm, “Just because I told you that, does not mean you can go flapping your tongue to everyone about it.”

      “I’m sure Varric _flaps_ his tongue.”

      She just gives me a look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, who doesn’t love waking up to spiders in their beds? And of course, ain't nothing like Mummy Cassandra, always looking after Lydia!


	80. Chapter 79

Sera sits next to me, feet dangling off the edge of the tiled roof. Cassandra watches us from the training dummies, a small smile on her face. Sera takes a bite from the crumbling cookie in her hands.

      “We’re eating. On a roof?” I ask, taking a bite of my own cookie.

      “They’re horrible, right? And raisins, ugh! I frigging still hate cookies.”

      “You know, Sera, this is about as far from what I expected as we could get,” I say.

      Sera glances away, thinking, but her eyes flick back to me, “I got caught stealing when I was little, yeah? You get alienage or worse for that, but the ‘Lady Emmald’ took me in. She was sick and couldn’t have children. I had no parents. It worked out.”

      I nod for her to keep going.

      “Anyway, she gets a year sicker, so I ask about her cookies. Because Mums makes cookies. I can pass that down, or something. Turns out, she couldn’t cook. She missed that talk with _her_ Mum. The ones she ‘made’ she bought and pretended. Aw, right. Well, no, she was a bitch. She hid buying them by keeping me away from the baker. She did _that_ by lying that he didn’t like me, didn’t like _elves_. She let me hate so she could protect her _pride_. I hated him so much and I hated…”

      She stops herself, turning away from me, looking at her feet.

      I move closer, “Sera?”

      “Well, she died and I hate pride. ‘Pride cookies’.” She straightens, “But this Inquisition thing is working out. So I figured, me and you could make some… ‘Inquisition cookies’? Because then I could like them again? Ugh, it’s stupid.”             

      I grin, “You know what? That would be great.”

      “See I knew…” she says, defeated. But then she straightens, “Wait, really? Because it seemed frigging daft every step to me. Suppose it’s not really about them. I hate learning lessons. Makes my stomach hurt. Anyway, I’ll throw this rubbish away. Next time will be better, yeah?”

      “Sera. Anytime.”

      She grins at me, “Plus, if the cookies were bad, we could throw them at people? These are really bad. Frigging raisins.” She looks at her cookie.

      “Now you’re talking. Best two out of three on the well?”

      Sera cackles, “Knew I liked you! Bonus for bouncing off helmets. And thanks. For stuff.” We stand, ammo in hands, searching for the perfect target.

      Sera spots a troop, sharpening his blade. She pegs the raisin cookie and it hits the solider right in the head. He yells in pain, looking around wildly for the culprit.

      I grab Sera’s arm, but she just gasps, “Cassandra! You did it!”

      The soldier turns to the seething Cassandra and both look up at us.

      “Run!” I yell.

      The two of us bolt from the roof, diving into the safety of Sera’s room.

      We don’t stop laughing for at least ten minutes.

 

+++

 

Once we’ve composed ourselves long enough to stop laughing, we move down to the tavern, where to others are.

      The rest of the Inquisition army should arrive in the next two days, just to be sure Corypheus didn’t leave anything behind.

      My inner circle have been given a few days off, to recuperate from their battle in the Arbor Wilds. We had a few drinks last night, to celebrate Samson’s trial, but nothing too excited. And now, the one time they’re all having fun is when I have to work.

      Sera rushes over to them and Bull passes her a tankard.

      “I’ll be back guys, save me a few drinks,” I say.

      “Sure thing boss.”

      “I’m sure we can manage that,” says Varric.

      I spot Harding nestled beside Krem, “Oi Scout Harding, are you scouting hard?”

      “Am I scouting hard or hardly scouting?”

      “Are you scouting hardly or Harding scout?”

      “Perhaps I am hardly scouting or hard scouting.”

      Varric groans, “My brain just exploded.”

      Harding grins, “Nothing like a _hard_ tongue twister.”

      “It was hardly that bad,” I say. “Now, remember to save me a spot.”

      “Always, Lydia,” says the dwarf.

      Making my way back to the keep, I nod to Inquisition scouts who are training. They nod back, some of them blushing. I guess I just have that effect on people.

      The keep is beginning to fill up for lunch and I’m about to head to my chambers when Solas steps out of his office.

      He looks up at me, “Ah, Inquisitor. I was hoping to see you.”

      “Solas, what do you need?”

      “A word, if you please.”

      “Of course.”

      We move into his office and I notice most of the wall space has been painted. One panel represents each major event the Inquisition we’ve been through. I’ve been keeping up with his progress, but it seems he’s only just finished the panel of the Arbor Wilds. Solas has painted two elf sentinels, standing guard over what looks like a simple version of the Well of Sorrows.

      His paintings certainly are beautiful.

      On his desk is a glowing blue shard we found in the Hinterlands and we thought it would be best for Solas to study it.

      “I have been pooling all of my resources to figure out what had happened in the Arbor Wilds. When you used your power.”

      I blink, “You’ve figured something out?”

      “Perhaps. When you open a Rift, it is because you are trying to remove the threat of something. The Rift-infected bear, the Venatori and red Templars. It is your power to destroy those who oppose you. Have you ever wondered where they go when they are pulled into the Rift?”

       I shake my head, “The Fade perhaps? They were my enemies though, it never really occurred to me where they’d go, as long as they were gone.”

      Solas chuckles, “Yes. That is always the best outcome. But no matter, you are correct in some way. They are sent to the Fade. It is the journey that I am interested in.”

      Nodding, I urge him to continue.

      “When a victim is pulled into the Rift, they experience a vision. Like a dream. I know this because it is how I walk about the Fade. My dreams are not horrible or scary. Unlike yours.”

      “You think I walked the Fade?”

      “You did see it, did you not?”

      “Yeah, but… I didn’t think it was possible for me.”

      Solas smiles, “What you saw was different because it was your greatest fears. Spiders, death, failure—a mistake.”

      I swallow hard.

      “When a person is pulled into the Rift, I do believe they experience the same thing. They see their biggest fear.”

      “So, you’re saying I suck people into their greatest fears?”

      “Essentially, yes. I believe your power sent you there—temporarily. But why, I still do not know.”

      Nodding, I clench my hands, “It’s not a vision of… the future is it?”

      “I don’t believe so, no. It is just the darkest parts of your mind,” says Solas. He bows his head deeply, “What you saw was a manifestation of your mind. Nothing more. But, I do not know if this vision will reappear next time you use your power, or if it will even be the same vision.”

      “Whatever comes, I’ll face it.”

      Solas smiles, “I’m sure you will.” He hesitates, but nods, “You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have… impressed me.”

      “With my stumbling?”

      He just smiles, “Perhaps. But you have offered hope that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave… that someday, things will be better.” He looks away, “Forgive my melancholy, Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not serve such a fate. The orb he carries and its stolen power… that, at least, we may still recover.”

      I forgot about the orb Corypheus carries—the one he used to try and take away my mark. But it was the thing that started this. If I hadn’t had picked it up at the Conclave when the Divine smacked it out of the Magister’s hand, I wouldn’t have this cursed power that makes me see my inner demons.

      But then I wouldn’t have the power to close the Rifts.

      “Thank you, Solas,” I say. “We couldn’t have done this without you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

      “You are welcome.”

      “And thanks for… helping me with the vision. I know—”

      The doors slam open and Leliana rushes through, hood down, red hair messy, “Inquisitor! Thank the Maker I found you. Morrigan chased after her son into the Eluvian. She was terrified.”

      I step towards her, “What? She was chasing Kieran?”

      “She said he activated the mirror somehow and then she ran into it. I’ve never seen Morrigan like that. You must go after her.”

      Solas nods, “Go. We’ll see if we can find help.”

      Leliana nods and the three of us rush off.

      I’m sprinting towards the spare little room the Eluvian sits in. If Morrigan chased after her son, that would mean they’re at the Crossroads, right?

      Kieran wouldn’t have a key to unlock the other ones. Maybe he got spooked by something and the Eluvian was the first hiding spot he could find.

      Rushing into the room, I don’t hesitate as I leap through the mirror.

      Stumbling through the other side, I try not to vomit from the nausea. Traveling through mirrors certainly isn’t the best thing for my stomach.

      But looking around, my stomach drops, fear crawling through my throat.

      This isn’t the Crossroads. This is the Fade.

      But am I physically in the Fade or am I like Solas, in a dream? What about the vision I had when I used my power—is this like it?

      The green mist hangs low over the rocky landscape. I can see pieces of rock floating in the green sky, bits of ancient buildings and architecture.

      There aren’t any spiders, so I’m hoping I’m safe.

      How did the Eluvian lead here? And can it go anywhere?

      There are too many questions and I begin moving, making my way down the damp path. A shiver runs down my spine as I walk past an archway, a candle glowing with green flame stuck into the side of it.

      I swear I can hear voices whispering to me. But I keep going, even if I don’t have my weapons with me.

      Maker, keep us safe.

      Standing at the top of a flight of stairs, I see Morrigan, her back to me. She stands in a wide clearing.

      “Morrigan!” I yell.

      “Go back!” she says, turning to me. Her voice echoes across the Fade. “I must find Kieran before it’s too late!”

      Orange wisps hover around her, lost souls in the Fade.

      But I don’t turn back. I rush down the stairs, coming to stand beside the mage.

      She doesn’t look at me, “Why would Kieran do this? _How_ could he do this?” I’ve never heard her this frightened before. “We stand in the Fade. To direct the Eluvian here would require immense power.” Her face falls, “If he is lost to me, now after all I have sacrificed…”

      I place a gentle hand on her shoulder, “We’ll find him, Morrigan. He can’t be far.” I move in front of her, trying to get her to move.

      “The Fade is infinite. He could literally be anywhere.” But she begins walking again, “Whatever happens to him now, ‘tis my doing. I set him on this path.” She stops again, “Please help me look, Inquisitor. Just a little longer.”

      She sounds so helpless. Kieran is the only person she has left. If we can’t find him, she’ll be lost.                                                                                                                       

      “Morrigan, I said I’ll help you,” I say. “Come on, let’s go this way.”

      We move in silence, Morrigan setting a brisk pace as we make our way through the nightmarish, yet familiar Fade. It seems endless as we make our way through the twisting and hovering rock. How Kieran managed to make it further into the Fade is a mystery.

      I stay close to Morrigan, so not to get lost. And she stays close to me, her worry evident on her face. I don’t know how to comfort her though. She certainly doesn’t look like one who takes comfort in hugs.

      The voices seem to follow us through the Fade, whispering incoherent words in our words. It’s unsettling to say the least.

      Turning a corner, we come to a widened path, red Lyrium pulsing from the walls. A Templar statue stands in the middle of the open space, engulfed with red Lyrium. Something to try and distract us perhaps?

      Or is it showing one of my fears like the vision? Skirting around thick spikes of the deadly stuff, we ignore it as best we can, continuing on our way.

      Our footsteps echo as we walk along the path and every shadow has me jumping. This place is even making Morrigan uneasy—her eyes flick around, searching for any potential threats. And any signs of her son.

      The orange wisps continue to flit around, following us.

      The rocky walls seem to close in around us as we walk down the path, like cliff faces. Though, the cliff faces are sharp, jagged and glowing green.

      Morrigan gasps, “There he is!”

      And she’s right, Kieran’s standing in a clearing, blue light shining from his hand. But there’s someone standing next to him.

      I blink, “Who’s with him?”

      “That’s…” her breath hitches, “No! It can’t be.”

      Moving closer, I notice the woman next to Kieran is clad in red armour, feathers sprouting from her shoulder armour. Her white hair has been spiked back to points at the back of her head, like horns. A head piece rests against her forehead, sharp and glowing. She kneels next to the boy, the blue light from spewing from his palm flows around them.

      He closes his fist and turns to us, the blue magic evaporating, “Mother!”

      The woman looks at us, her face wrinkled with age. Her golden eyes are exactly like Morrigan’s.

      Morrigan glares at her, “Mother.”

      I blink, totally confused. I didn’t even know Morrigan had a mother.

      The woman stands with grace—not what I was expecting for her age, “Now, isn’t this a surprise.”

      “Clearly not the good sort of surprise,” I say, judging from Morrigan’s tone.

      “My lovely Morrigan has a flair for the dramatic. Thankfully, my grandson is more sensible.”

      “Kieran is not your grandson. Let him go!” yells Morrigan.

      “As if I were holding the boy hostage. She’s always been ungrateful, you see,” says the woman.

      Morrigan bristles in anger, “Ungrateful? I know how you plan to extend your life, wicked crone! You will not have me and you will not have my son!” She clenches her fingers, lifting her arms as green light wraps around her wrists.

      “That’s quite enough,” says the woman. “You’ll endanger the boy.” Her eyes glow blue and she holds up a hand, a blue orb glowing her in palm.

      Morrigan’s magic explodes and I have to catch her as she stumbles back.

      She looks at the fading green light flickering on her fingers, then looks at the woman, “What have you done to me?”

      “I have done nothing. _You_ drank from the Well of your own volition.”

      Morrigan gasps, “You… are Mythal.”

      Shit.

      “You can’t be Mythal. That’s not possible!” I say. Mythal was murdered, wasn’t she?

      The woman laughs, “Explain to me, dear girl, why I cannot be what I am.”

      I swallow, “Mythal was an _elven_ god. You, you’re…”

      “Human? Not a word many have used for me in a very long time,” she says. She looks at Kieran and pushes him gently forward.

      He smiles at her, then runs towards his mother, engulfing her in a hug.

      I’ve never seen Morrigan so affectionate before.

      “I’m sorry mother,” Kieran says. “I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time.” The boy moves back over to his grandmother.

      But Morrigan shakes her head, “I do not understand.”

      Mythal stands behind the boy, “Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her.”

      “Then… you carry Mythal inside you?” I ask.

      “She is a part of me, no more separate than your heart from your chest.” She looks at Morrigan, “You hear the voices of the Well, girl… what do they say?”

      Morrigan closes her eyes, listening to something we can’t hear, “They… say you speak the truth.”

      “But what was Mythal? A legend given name and called a god, or something more? Truth is not the end, but a beginning,” Mythal says. “A herald, indeed. Shouting to the heavens, harbinger of a new age. As for me, I have had many names. But you… may call me Flemeth.”

      I blink, “I know the name ‘Flemeth’. It belongs to an ancient Fereldan legend. It says long ago, you left your husband for a lover. Your husband then tricked you, killed your lover and imprisoned you.” A terrible story, but Dorian and I had read through it once. “Then a spirit came to offer you vengeance. Mythal—that’s what you spoke of.”

      “One day, someone will summarise the terrible events of your life so quickly,” is her reply. She gives me a smirk, “But yes, I was that woman. That is how my tale began.”

      “Flemeth appears in other legends,” I continue. “Helping heroes for reasons of her own.”

      “I nudge history, when it’s required. Other times, a shove is needed,” she chuckles darkly.

      “If Mythal is within you, why not reveal yourself?” I ask.

      “And to whom should I reveal myself?”

      “To the elves! To everyone!” I say.

      Flemeth laughs, “I knew the hearts of men even before Mythal came to me. It is _why_ she came to me. They do not _want_ the truth and I… I am but a shadow, lingering in the sun.”

      I still don’t understand any of this, “Why did Mythal come to you?”

      “For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens,” she says.

      “And you follow her whims? Do you even know what she truly is?” asks Morrigan.

      “You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end?” asks Flemeth. “It is because I taught you, girl, because things happened that were never meant to happen. She was betrayed as I was betrayed—as the world was betrayed. Mythal clawed and crawled her was through the ages to me and I will see her avenged!” Her voice echoes across the Fade, sending a shiver down my spine. “Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance.”

      “I presume you know what we’re up against,” I say.

      “Better than you could possibly imagine,” Flemeth says.

      Hope sparks in my stomach, “So will you help us?”

      “Once I have what I came for.” Her gaze shifts to Kieran.

      Morrigan glances at her son then to Flemeth, shaking her head, “No. I will not allow it.”

      “He carries a piece of what once was, snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this,” says Flemeth.

      Carries a piece of what once was? What does that mean?

      “He is not you pawn, Mother. I will not let you use him!” snaps Morrigan.

      “Have you not _used_ him? Was that not your purpose, the reason you agreed to his creation?”                                                                                                                            

      “That was then. Now he… he is my son.”

      The despair in Morrigan’s voice is enough to stop Flemeth in her tracks. Her face softens in shock.

      Morrigan doesn’t look at me, “Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters, Inquisitor.” Her voice is quiet. “That was the fate she intended for me. I thwarted her and now she intends to have Kieran instead.”

      “Wait… about Kieran…” I ask. The boy looks at me, undisturbed by the argument.

      “I am not the only one carrying the soul of a being long thought lost,” says Flemeth.

      “He is more than that, Mother,” says Morrigan.

      “As am I, yet do you hear me complain? Our destinies are not so easily avoided, dear girl.”

      “Mother, I have to,” says Kieran.

      Morrigan shakes her head, “You do not belong to her, Kieran. Neither of us do!”

      I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything, “If Kieran is so special, why did you wait until now to come for him?”

      Flemeth cocks her head, “I did not know where he was. Morrigan cleverly hid him from me… until now.”

      Morrigan gasps, “‘Twas the Well…”

      “Always grasping beyond your reach, despite all that I taught you.” A jab at Morrigan.

      I shake my head, “Whatever else you think Kieran is, he is still a child!”  
      “And so much better behaved than his mother was at his age.”

      Kieran smiles at Flemeth.

      Morrigan falls to her knees, “Kieran, I…”

      She’s desperate now, buying for Kieran’s support. And my heart swells for her.

      Kieran looks to Flemeth for guidance and the immortal just blinks slowly, “As you wish. Hear my proposal, dear girl.”

      “Let me take the lad and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again.”

      Morrigan shakily gets to her feet.

      “Or, keep the lad with you… and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due.”

      “He returns with me,” comes Morrigan’s reply. Strong and final.

      “Decided so quickly?”

      “Do whatever you wish. Take over my body now, if you must, but Kieran will be free of your clutches,” pleads Morrigan. “I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me.”

      That hits Flemeth hard and she frowns, hurt in her eyes. But she doesn’t snap back a retort.

      She gazes at Kieran, taking his hands in hers. Blue light erupts from their linked hands and it travels back towards Flemeth. The magic coats her chest and evaporates. She smiles at the boy.

      “No more dreams?” asks Kieran.

      “No more dreams.”

      The boy smiles and moves back to his mother, Morrigan wrapping a protective arm around him.

      “A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me. Listen to the voices. They will teach you… as I never did.” And with that, she turns, walking away from us.

      “Wait!” yells Morrigan.

      But she doesn’t and walks through the thickening green mists, disappearing.

      Our walk back is in silence, Morrigan keeping a hand on Kieran’s shoulder the whole way back. What is he exactly? Maybe Leliana will know. And Flemeth—Mythal—is actually alive. There are too many questions that need answering.

      Walking back through the Eluvian, the nausea quells easily.

      Morrigan stops to look at her son, “Are you alright, Kieran? You are not hurt?”

      “I feel lonely,” he says.

      Morrigan just smiles softly, nodding. Kieran kisses his mother on the cheek and moves off.

      “She wanted the Old God soul all along,” says Morrigan. “Is it worth reminding myself that perhaps I do not know everything after all? My mother has the soul of an elven goddess—or whatever ‘Mythal’ truly was—and her plans are unknown to me.”

      “So Kieran had… the soul of an Old God?” I ask.

      “Taken from the Archdemon at the final battle of the Fifth Blight, yes,” says Morrigan. “He has never known anything else. I am uncertain what effect this will have on him.”

      “But why did you…?”

      “I told you at the temple. The magic of old must be preserved, no matter how feared,” says Morrigan. “Kieran had a destiny and now it is in Flemeth’s hands. I suppose we shall see what she does with it.”

      So that’s how they won the Fifth Blight. The Hero of Fereldan—King Alistair’s Queen— had used ancient magic to kill the Archdemon. A dark ritual.

      “You truly had no idea what she was?” I ask.

      “I knew she kept the truth from me. I even suspected she was not truly human… but this? I always thought the so-called ‘elven gods’ were little more than glorified rulers, but now I have doubt. And doubt is… an uncomfortable thing, Inquisitor.”

      I smile, “It means you’re human.”

      “Perhaps. Just be thankful you did not drink from the Well. I am evidently tied to my mother for eternity.”

      I swallow, taking in all of the facts, “I must admit, I still can’t quite believe what happened.”

      “It is as if something from ancient times stretched a skeletal hand into our present. Of course, the same could be said of Corypheus.”

      She turns to the Eluvian, hands coming up to close it. The blue ripples cut of suddenly. Hopefully no one else decides to run through it.

      I glance at her, “Now what?”

      “Now, we must prepare to face Corypheus himself. It seems Mother was right. The voices of the Well tell me I will be able to match his dragon. All that remains is for you to find him.” She gives me a small smile.

      Cassandra, Leliana and Solas come crashing through the door, but when they see us, they stop. Cassandra has her sword out and her shield is pressed against her body, ready to defend.

      She blinks, “Lydia… thank the Maker!”  
      “You’re back,” says Leliana. “What happened?”

      I look at Morrigan, “She can tell you. I need a break.” I can’t bare the look at the others. Going back into the Fade was certainly a shock and not something I wish to do again. Last time we were there, I left Stroud behind to get eaten by a massive spider-monster. And then I had the vision—where the Fade became part of the world. And now I’ve gone back again and Morrigan’s mother turns out to be Mythal.

      My feet seem to move on their accord and I’m moving blindly across the gardens. I just need to clear my head a little. Then I can tell the others what had happened.

      It’s only when I arrive at a wooden door that I realise where I am. The alter of Andraste. Inside is where Cassandra and I do our prayers every morning, it’s where we can get some peace and quiet from the everyday buzz.

      Pushing the door open, I’m surprised to see Cullen kneeling in front of the statue, head down in prayer. I almost back away, but I can hear him talking. Candles burn at the steps beside him, the statue of Andraste ringed in vines.

      “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander to drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

      He stops and I walk towards him, “A prayer for you?”

      He turns towards me, still kneeling on one knee, “For those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose.” He hangs his head, like it’s his fault.

      “You’re afraid?” I ask.

      “Of course I am! Corypheus possessed that grey Warden at Mythal. What more is he capable of? It’s only a matter of time before he retaliates. We must draw strength wherever we can.” He stands and I move towards him. His voice is soft, “When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again. Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him.”

      I swallow. He’s worried about me. And if I’m honest, I’m shitting my pants.

      I tear my gaze away from those chocolatey eyes I’ve come to love, “What if I can’t… Cullen, if I don’t…”

      His gloved hand comes to my cheek and he gently tilts my face towards his, “Maker, no.”

      Pulling him into a hug, I grip him tightly. His strong arms wrap around my waist, warm and safe.

      His cheek is against mine, “Whatever happens, you _will_ come back.”

      “Cullen you don’t have to—”

      “Allow me this.” His breath is warm against my neck, “The thought of losing you… I can’t.”

      We stay embraced for what seems like eternity. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Cullen is my anchor, the one person I fight for. The one I love.

      “I love you, Cullen.”

      His arms wrap tighter, “Maker… I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! SO cute! But yes, I must say, we are certainly coming to the end of the story!! Quite a long chapter this time, but I’m setting everything up for the next few ;) Also, with the Inquisitor’s power to open Rift’s and what not, I did take the liberty of making it all up, so none of it is canon. I don’t even know if it would be right, but I just really want to expand on the Power of the Rift, because it’s pretty neat! But yes, more to come :D


	81. Chapter 80

 

The sky is cloudless, the sun shining across courtyard, warming all of us up. We sit outside the tavern, sipping on some watered down wine and eating our lunch.

      After yesterday’s debacle with Morrigan and her son, I needed a break. Harding and the Chargers have a day off, while my inner circle have been relieved of their duties for today, because I’m a nice boss.

      I just want to spend time with my friends.

      I tear my bread roll in half, dipping it into the left over juice from my beef stew—thanks to Vivienne’s great cooking.

      Cassandra sits next to me, carefully spooning the stew into her mouth. Conservative as always, whereas Harding and I just inhaled the stew. Cassandra hasn’t left my side since we got back from the Fade, always making sure I’m okay. And to be honest, I’m glad. It really shook me up, going back in there.

      Harding looks up, grinning at me, “I could wash that down with a whole chocolate cake.”

      “And some cookies,” I say. “A chocolate cookie cake.”

      “Ugh. It would have to be caramel cake. We’ve had this discussion before,” says Cassandra, glaring at the two of us.

      “Seeker, you do realise you’re never going to win that battle,” says Varric. “Stumbles and Harding in Hightown are both very passionate about their chocolate cake.”

      “And very passionate in bed,” mumbles Krem.

      Cullen let’s out a small chuckle.

      Bull grins, “Good one Krem.”

      “Thanks chief. I do always try my hardest.”

      Harding just sends me a look, “Typical.”

      I give her an eye roll, “This is what we have to put up with.”

      “Count yourselves lucky. I have a dwarf who does not stop talking,” says Cassandra.

      Varric straightens, “Hey!”

      Cassandra finishes her meal, giving Varric a smirk.

      “Now I really could go for some chocolate cake,” I say.

      “Ugh.”

      “We’ve got to get in as much food as we can now, because the rest of the Inquisition troops will be coming back tonight,” I say, looking at Cassandra.

      “Yes,” says Cullen. “And they’ll be very hungry. Even they can’t stand the porridge after a few days staying there.”

      Harding shivers, “Don’t remind me of that porridge.”

      “It is bold to call it porridge,” says Josephine. “Sludge is a better term.”

      “Ah yes, beautiful use of words, Josephine,” says Dorian.

      We chat aimlessly for a little longer, until Vivienne scowls us for being lazy.

      With our meals warming our bellies, we slowly begin trickling away to do our own things. Solas heads back to his office, while Dorian and Bull move towards the tavern. Cassandra relieves herself to go train, Varric going to watch her. Harding begins grooming her horse, ready for our trip back to the Hinterlands tomorrow.

      Cullen winks at me as he begins his training with the troops.

      I move up to the keep, a book in hand. Sitting down just near the doors, I can feel the hearth warming my arms.

      Reading has become something of a distraction for me. It’s something to stop me stressing—not to mention I can get lost in the words for hours upon hours. Cassandra, Harding and Dorian all join me sometimes in the library, to read with me. Though Dorian and I usually read out the smuttiest books we can find—much to Cassandra’s disgust.

      The book I read now is quite fascinating and I’m only a few pages in. So I’ve got to keep reading.  

      The keep is quiet today, with preparations under way to supply food and beds for the troops coming back tonight. I smile at one of the cooks as she walks past, carrying a tray of cookies. Sera’s idea if I’m right.

      Moving back to the words on the page, I continue reading about the warrior and the dragon…

 

 

Looking up, I blink a few times to help my strained eyes. I’ve been reading for quite some time now. From the light streaming through the windows, it must be around midafternoon. I silently curse myself for losing track of time. I was meant to train with Cassandra.

      And I’ve been so immersed in my book that I don’t notice Leliana and Morrigan walk in through the doors. But Leliana’s voice echoes around the keep, “I am glad you found Kieran. Is he alright?”

      “Kieran will be fine,” says the mage.

      “And did you find what you… needed?”

      “I can match the darkspawn Magister’s dragon, yes.” She turns to me, “As for matching Corypheus… that is up to you, Inquisitor.”

      “Believe me, I know,” I say, closing my book. Standing, I stretch my legs.

      “We’ve been looking for his base since all this began,” says Leliana. “With no success.”

      I nod, “We’ll keep searching. We have the best team of scouts and there’s only so many places he could hide.”

      My palm itches and I have to resist the urge to sate it. Itching my mark could be dangerous. I might accidentally open a Rift.

      Morrigan nods, “We must continue the search. Perhaps the Deep Roads is a place we should explore.”

      Leliana looks at the mage, “The last time we went into the Deep Roads, Queen Brienne was nearly crushed by a Brood Mother.”

      “Ah yes. Alistair saved her.”

      I grin, “Sounds exciting.”

      Leliana nods, “It is not a bad idea. The Deep Roads, I mean.”

      “I’ll… ah, see if Harding’s up for the challenge.” I say, wiping my palm over my armour, just to try and dwell the itch a little. Going underground certainly isn’t something I want to do. “I never really thought about the Deep Roads. I’ll get Josephine—”

      Pain shoots through my mark, up through my arm and into my shoulder.

      I scream, stumbling, but green flashes around us, like lightning. My mark is sparking uncontrollably, pain moving up my arm. Leliana grabs my shoulder to steady me. But it wasn’t my mark that made the world flash green.

      Thunder claps overhead and the ground shakes.

      Something is completely wrong here.

      One look at Leliana confirms it. The look in her eyes is terrifying. She isn’t one to get scared. But she looks petrified.

      I bolt from her grip, her and Morrigan running after me.

      Rushing outside, everyone’s stopped their chores, all looking up to the sky. They huddle in a crowd in the courtyard, shouts coming from the sentries on top of the walls.

      My inner circle are standing together, horrified.

      Is it Corypheus?

      Cassandra looks at me, mouth pulled back in worry.

      Stopping on the landing in the middle of the stairway, I can see it.

      The Breach.

      Reopened.

      It swells in the sky, green lightning whipping from its maw. Rocks hover around, getting sucked into its range. The one thing that had threatened to tear Thedas apart. We managed to stop it, but now… now it’s back. To haunt me.

      I swallow back the tears, “No… it can’t be…”

      “It seems Corypheus is not content to wait,” says Morrigan.

      The Breach is in the same place.

      “He’s in the Valley of Sacred Ashes?”

      “You either close the Breach once more, or it swallows the world,” says Morrigan, looking at me.

      I’m shaking by now, fingers closing around my necklace—around the lucky coin Cullen had given me.

      People are starting to panic. The merchants are packing up their stores, the stableboys trying to hold down their horses. Even Bull is staring at the Breach in disbelief.

      “But that’s madness!” says Josephine. She and Cullen have made their way towards me. Advisors till the end, it seems. “Wouldn’t it kill him as well?”

      Everyone’s looking at me, waiting for my call.

      “Lydia, we have no forces to send with you—we must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds,” say Cullen, his voice stern.

      “I must go now, before it’s too late.” My voice is stronger than I actually feel. I glance up at the Breach. I can’t afford to look at Cullen. I might actually start crying.

      “But…” Cullen steps towards me.

      “I’ll… I’ll be fine, Cullen. Don’t worry.” I place a hand against his chest, the unspoken words hovering in the air around us: Don’t worry about me.

      Moving down the stairs, people snap into action, grabbing weapons and armour. My inner circle are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me.

      I try to stop my shaking, “Cullen, I need you to focus the soldiers we do have. There will be demons spewing from the Breach. Make sure they’re taken care of.”

      He nods reluctantly, “As… as you wish, Lydia.”

      “Iron Bull, you and your Chargers will escort us there. I need you flanking us. And I need you fighting in the front.”

      “Roger that boss,” says Bull, swinging his battle axe across his shoulder. He nods to the Chargers, “You heard her boys. Let’s rip apart some demons. Horns up!”

      The Chargers bellow their war cries.

      “Dorian, Varric, Cassandra,” I turn to them. They look at me, weapons and armour ready, faces twisted in determination. “Till the end. You’re with me.”

      “Always,” says Cassandra.

      “It’s been a great ride,” says Dorian.

      “Riding the Bull?” I ask.

      “Quite.”

      The jokes calms my nerves a little.

      I glance at Harding, “And Harding, you’re with me too.”

      The scout nods, “With pleasure.”

      Moving towards the drawbridge, I turn back to see the rest following me. My eyes scan over the Inquisition—my Inquisition. They’re all following me to perhaps the very end. Yet they don’t hesitate.

      “Inquisition!” I yell. “Now’s our time to shine! Let’s go kill Corypy-piss!”

      Cullen pulls me into one last, passionate kiss. I grip onto him, fingers scrabbling to pull him closer. When he pulls away, his chocolatey eyes meet mine, “Do not die on me.”

      “I’ll try not to.”

      The cheers that echo across Skyhold give me some hope in this fight.

     

+++

 

The walk to the Temple of Sacred Ashes is only an hour, with the help of Harding and her team. They know all of the short cuts and the quickest ways to get there. I’ve sent some scouts ahead, so they can see if there’s anything worth saving before the Breach rips the Temple to shreds.

      Now we’re in the valley, near the ruins of Haven. I haven’t been back here since the avalanche that nearly killed me. And to be honest, I don’t want to be back. That was a nightmare. A mistake that never should have happened.

      The wind has picked up, bending pine trees and even skittering a few rocks. The sky has darkened to all but black—the Breach the only source of light, throwing green shadows across the valley.

      And it’s cold. Maker, so cold.

      Our steps crunch through the grass as we march our way towards the Breach. Looking up at it, I can see meteors streak from the green portal, crashing down to the earth.

      We skirt past Haven, heading to where it all began. The Temple of Sacred Ashes.

      The same place I had closed the Breach the first time. And I’ll gladly do it again if it means my life.

      Standing at the edge of the crater the explosion made at the Conclave, I look over the Temple. It’s a lot worse than the last time I saw it.

      Red Lyrium sprouts from nearly every rocky surface, pulsing—breathing like it’s alive. It seems as though Corypheus has been trying to build a new temple, but instead, it looks look a fortress. Or a city. Battlements loom over us, pillars in each corner of the temple. There aren’t any walls in Corypheus’ fortress and it just looks like ruins.

      Perhaps he was jealous of Skyhold and he wanted a fortress of his own.

      I can see the scouts ahead of us, each talking frantically to each other as they search what must be the entrance to the ruined fortress.

      I can’t hear them this high up, but they seem to be planning something—perhaps a way to trap Corypheus.

      Moving, I go to jump down the small drop, but Cassandra holds an arm against my chest, “No.” The fear in her voice is enough to make me stop.

      I follow her gaze and I have to blink twice. The rocks around the scouts begin to hover, then lift into the air. Like they’re being sucked in by the Breach.

      “Tell me, where is your Maker now?” A shadow walks from the red glow, looming, tall and terrifying. Corypheus walks from a stone archway, towards the scouts. “Call Him. Call down His wrath upon me.”

      It’s only then I notice that he holds the orb in one of his spindly hands, glowing red this time, instead of green.

      Solas and I share a glance. The orb is what we need to end this.

      “You cannot,” continues Corypheus, watching the scouts. He hasn’t seen us yet, standing at the top. “For He does not exist.”

      That makes me move, but Cassandra holds me tight. Cullen holds up a fist and the other troops begin moving around the make shift fortress, in hopes of surrounding Corypheus. My inner circle split up, disappearing into the ruins.

      I swallow, my team and Harding are all that are left on the edge of the fortress.

      “I am Corypheus, _I_ shall deliver you from this lie in which you linger. Bow before your new god and be spared.”

      But the scouts stand strong, weapons out.

      No, don’t do it, I plead silently. But I can only watch helplessly.

      “Never!” yells one of the scouts. One of Harding’s men.

      Corypheus just glares at him, slowly bowing his head, “As you wish.” His voice is slow, crawling along my skin.

      And he throws his hands to the ground, sending a shock wave of red towards the scouts. They’re blown back and I shield my eyes from the blast.

      But I see the scout that denied Corypheus get smashed against a rock, his body rolling to the ground. He struggles to his feet and I nearly yell out when a green orb flies towards him.

      The magic grows, turning into a Terror demon, its long green arms and legs scrabbling at the scout. The demon slashes its claws along the man’s chest, then along his helmet. And he falls to his knees, blood gushing from his wounds.

      I can’t stand watching any longer. Jumping down the drop, I race towards the next scout the demon targets. And before it can attack, I swipe my blade through its stomach.

      Cassandra shoves her sword into the other Terror, ending its worthless life.

      I walk towards Corypheus, my team in tow. I just need to distract Corypheus a little longer, then we can all attack him.  

      The magister nods, “I knew you would come.” He mocks a deep bow to me, a smirk pulled across his lips.

      “It ends here, Corypheus!” I yell.

      “And so it shall.” He holds his hands out in front of him, twin balls of red magic sparking in his palms. He lifts them to the darkened sky and I feel the ground beneath my feet shake. Pulses of red Lyrium spread out round us and the earth suddenly jolts.

      It’s only then I realise the ground is rising.

      Bits of earth crack off around us and I grip onto Cassandra to stop myself from falling.

      A fissure snakes out inches from my foot and I spin, watching the crack as it cuts through the piece Harding stands on.                                                                                 

      She doesn’t have time to scream as the earth drops from under her feet.

      “Harding!” I shriek, scrambling to the edge, reaching towards her. But her back hits the stone ground, as we continue to rise higher. Thank the Maker it wasn’t a big drop.

      “I’ll organize the troops on the ground!” she yells.

      A quick glance around tells me Corypheus has just ripped up his entire fortress. And it’s floating higher into the sky. Cullen and the others rush to Harding’s side, Krem helping her up.

      Shit.

      None of them managed to get on the floating piece of earth. It’s just me and my team.

      Cullen looks up at me, fear torn across his face.

      Cassandra’s arms grip my shoulders, “Lydia, we need to focus. Look around.” She pulls me back from the edge, which is beginning to crumble.

      She’s right, I need to focus. We’re higher than the mountain range now, the clouds surrounding this floating fortress.

      Corypheus has managed to bring smaller pieces of earth, each with trees and rocks, floating next to the main piece of land. But what he’s actually trying to build is a mystery to me. A floating fortress? Why?

      He reappears under the same archway once the rising stops, “You have been most successful in foiling my plans, but let us not forget what you are. A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. In interloper. A mistake.” He eyes stare into mine, “We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood.”

      Godhood. A floating fortress in the sky. The Breach reopened.

      It all makes sense now. Corypheus was going to use the orb to traverse the Black City—the city in the Fade.

      It’s what he’s trying to recreate.

      It’s his vision of the Black City.

      “I came here to stop you, Corypheus. Nothing more,” I say, voice firm. I can feel Cassandra standing close to me.

      He glares at me and I glare right back.

      But a growl stops me and I turn to see the Archdemon creeping along the crumbling walls.

      Cassandra grips my arm, urging me to move, but the Archdemon leaps before I can do anything.

      My arms wrap around Cassandra and I can’t help but let out a scream.

      Just as the Archdemon’s jaws open, something smashes into it. I glimpse shining purple scales and a similar form to the Archdemon.

      Another dragon?

      The two creatures tumble off the edge of the floating city and I can hear the roars coming from them.

      A snap of wings tells me that they’ve taken flight.

      “You dare?” growls Corypheus. He teleports to a raised platform of stone.

      The four of us exchange looks. Now’s our chance to attack.

      Varric aims Bianca at Corypheus, sending two bolts towards the magister. Dorian whips his hands up, coating the bolts in ice.

      Corypheus twists, one bolt missing him, while the other lodges itself into his arm.

      The bolts explode into shards of ice, piercing his skin and sending a cloud of snow and ice around him.

      That’s when Cassandra and I attack.

      We run out him, weapons out, pointed straight to him.

      Corypheus manages to hit my blades away as I send them towards him, but Cassandra’s shield smashes into his side.

      He stumbles, swinging his arms wildly. We dodge them with ease and he teleports over to the other side of courtyard-like area.

      “A dragon,” he says. “How clever of you. But it will avail you nothing!”

      Our dragon?

      Shining purple scales... much cleaner than the maroon Archdemon.

      Morrigan.

      She shape-shifted into a dragon. That’s how she could much his Archdemon. Of course!

      We rush towards him again, hoping to at least wound him.

      “You will fall as a warning to those who oppose my divine will!” he yells.

      We hit Corypheus with our attacks, sending blades along his skin, bolts through his torso and magic through his chest. But he just absorbs it all, standing strong.

      He throws a ball of red energy towards me and I have to launch myself off a rock to dodge it.

      I just hope the others on the ground are alright. I can hear shouts from below.

      “If you desire death, you shall have it!” yells Corypheus, slamming a giant fist against Cassandra’s raised shield. She jerks back from the force, eyes moving to mine.

      Corypheus holds out a hand and red Lyrium sprouts from the ground. Cassandra leaps away from it and I have to spin to avoid getting impaled by it.

      As quickly as the Lyrium appears, it shoots back down into the ground, disappearing. For now.

      He smiles wickedly when he sees Cassandra’s expression, “Where is your Maker now?”

      “He will be with me until the end,” bellows Cassandra.

      I leap towards Corypheus, sending one of my blades towards his chest, but he just swats me away like someone would a bug.

      He is much taller than me, that’s for sure. Even taller than Bull, if I’m right.

      The two beasts shoot through the air around us, growling at each other as they scratch and bite. Green and purple bodies writhing against each other. The dragons are having a tough fight. I just hope Morrigan can out-match the Archdemon.

      “Feel my wrath, little wrench!” yells Corypheus, sending another ball of red energy towards me. It smashes against the wall I’m leaning against and I have to shield my eyes from the shards of rock spraying towards me.

      Meteors from the Breach shower down around us, smashing into the city.

      “You can’t stop us Corypheus!” I yell. “You never could!”

      The magister just glares at me before clapping his hands together. He sends a shockwave pulsing across the clearing, pushing the four of us to the ground.

      I scramble to my feet, but Corypheus teleports himself away in a puff of green mist. He lands on a walkway above the crumbling walls.

      And his face pulls back into a grin as he holds out a hand.

      A red beam shoots from his palm, cutting across the clearing. Cassandra tackles me to the ground as the beam lances over our heads.

      “Look at you, waring soporati nipping at the heels of your betters!” yells Corypheus.

      A soporati… a person without magic. A Tevinter term that Dorian had taught me.

      Cassandra pulls me to my feet, but looks around frantically for Varric. When she spots him crawling out from behind a rock, she visible relaxes. Though, she can only be so relaxed when we’re fighting Corypheus.

      Dorian points to a set of stone steps, leading up to where Corypheus disappeared to.

      I lead the others towards it, not saying a word.

      No amount of words could comfort us in a time like this. We’ve just got to push through until our very last breaths.

      We mount the stairs, coming to a different part of ‘The Black City’. The ruined walls and the dead grass beneath my feet is enough to turn anyone away.

      Who would want to live in a city like this?

      Well, Corypheus I guess.

      “You are nothing! All you love will be ground under the Imperium’s heel!” yells Corypheus, his voice echoing across the sky.

       We round a corner to find Corypheus standing atop a stone wall. He holds out his palm and in a blink an eye, the red beam shoots straight towards me.

      But Cassandra’s in front of me, shield held out in front of her. She’s blocking the beam. Her face is gritted in determination and she begins running towards Corypheus, the beam still reflecting off the metal.

      He disappears again, the beam fizzing out to nothing. 

      The magister is trying to tire us out, by running after him all the time. But I won’t stop until he’s dead.

      I flick one of my pocket knives towards him and it lodges itself in one of Corypheus’ shoulders.

      I blink, surprised it actually hit him.

      Corypheus growls at me.

      The two dragons fly past the floating city again, sending it shuddering. Corypheus glances at the Archdemon and I see my chance.

      Lunging, I manage to swipe a blade across his hip.

      He grunts, sending a hand towards me. And I can’t stop him as he slams me against the wall. I roll away, Dorian helping me to my feet.

      The magister just yells in frustration, clapping his hands together. He just disappears in a puff of green mist and I have to bite my tongue to keep back the string of profanities I want to yell.

      We follow him once again through his city.

      Moving through parts of buildings, I try to think about how this could have been Skyhold. If he knew where our base was, he could have easily sent Skyhold into the sky as his Black City. I don’t want to imagine how many people would have died. Luckily there was no one at the temple.

      Except for us.

      Gritting my teeth, I take some more stone stairs two at a time. We’re nearly at the top of the massive chunk of earth, yet when we come to a broken balcony, jutting out from the side of the floating land mass, I have to stop.

      Hovering around us are various rocks and smaller pieces of land that have broken off from the main section.

      The sky around us is dark, the occasional flash of green lightning streaking across the sky.

      And below us…

      I can see tiny dots moving along the ground, in massive clumps. It’s the Inquisition fighting the army of demons.

      Cullen’s down there.

      All of my friends are down there.

      Cassandra glances at me, urging me to keep moving. And we do, moving through the crumbling stairways to follow Corypheus.

      He stands in a small clearing, grinning at me as we crest the stairs.

      But one of the dragons fly past, shaking the piece of floating land. It’s Morrigan, the Archdemon chasing close behind her tail.

      She flies higher, bumping into floating rocks with hardly a flinch. But she’s faster than the Archdemon and she climbs towards the Breach, wings flapping in steady beats.

      And of course, the Archdemon follows.

      Even Corypheus is stunned by the spectacle, pausing in his fight to watch his prized pet take on our own ally.

      But then Morrigan stops flying as she curls her wings into her side, spinning back to face the Archdemon.

      The two dragons fly into each other, grappling and biting. A wise woman verses an ancient creature , good and evil. Life and death.

      But they’re tumbling back towards the floating city.

      And they’re not stopping.

      I’ve hardly got enough time to react before they smash into the ground we stand on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the final battle begins! Sorry for the long chapter, but of course, a lot of stuff is happening! Sorry for the slight cliff hanger! I hoped you enjoyed it, my friends and stay groovy.


	82. Chapter 81

The dust settles around us, the floating city going quiet. Though I can still hear the faint shouts from the Inquisition soldiers below us.

      My eyes open, the dust finally beginning to settle. A faint growl echoes through the crumbling city. A quick glance at the others confirms they’re uninjured. Cassandra quickly gets to her feet, sword in hand. She sends me a look.

      I’ve somehow ended up on my stomach, arms and legs sprawl across the ground. I quickly get to my feet, trying to stop the world from spinning. My eyes flick to Morrigan, who is slowly trying to get to her feet, face shrouded in shadow. But I can see the red stain smeared across her stomach and over her purple shawl. She’s injured.

      She slumps to the ground, unconscious.

      Taking a step, I go to help her, yet another growl makes me freeze.

      Spinning slowly on my heel, I soon face the Archdemon, shaking the dirt from its scaly body. It gets to its feet, jaws snapping together.

      “Fuck me,” yells Varric.

      The dragon’s head turns to look at us and it roars, a high pitched screech that hurts my ears. Its tail lashes violently behind its hulking body. Its purple scales are caked with blood and dirt, dark eyes staring right at us.

      “Split!” I yell.

      The dragon lunges towards us, talons and fangs ready to tear through flesh. And that tail is a weapon too. The barbs on the end of it are poisoned.

      We scatter to separate parts of the clearing, keeping away from the dragon’s jaws.

      Think, Lydia. Think.

      The dragon lunges towards me and I have to roll away from its snapping jaws. I roll back onto my feet with ease, eyes scanning the clearing.

      We killed the dragon at Skyhold with a lot of man power—arrows, magic, bolts. This time, we don’t have the luxury of an army. We’re just a four man (and woman) team.

      But we do have something.

      Morrigan injured the Archdemon when they smashed into the floating city. We can use that to our advantage. Surely if Morrigan is struggling to move, the Archdemon has to be in some pain.

      I can see the limp in its front leg and the bend in its wing. My eyes scan over its hide, searching for any wounds.

       There.

      A long one across its side, bloody, but not deep.

      We rush towards the dragon together, no words needed as we form a group. Cassandra’s out in front, shield up as Varric and Dorian shoot at it from behind the shield. While the dragon focuses on the others, I dart towards it, blades whirling at its side, to try and deepen that wound. One of my blades rips across the thick hide and dark blood drips from the wound, deepening the one it already had.

      A massive paw swipes at me and I leap to the safety of Cassandra’s shield, leaving the wounded side.

      The beast roars at us as we back away. But when its barbed tail comes towards us, Cassandra pushes me and I stumble away, trying to hold my balance.

      But the others have run in the opposite direction.

      I’m stuck with the Archdemon, separated from my friends.

      And to make matters worse, I’m standing at the edge of the clearing. Behind me is a nasty drop to the Temple of Scared Ashes. I’ve got nowhere to go, the dragon blocking my only escape.

      “You’re looking a little worse for wear,” I say, eyeing the creature.

      It turns to face me, growling. Its teeth drip with saliva, dropping to the rocky ground beneath its feet and its hard black eyes don’t blink. A little unnerving.  

      The others group together on the other side of the clearing, watching as the dragon stalks me, tail lashing.

      “Lydia,” breathes Cassandra. She edges toward me, but the dragon slams its tail down, a few feet from Cassandra’s boots.

      A warning.  

      I keep my eyes on the dragon as it begins to pace in front of me, probably sizing me up. Am I entrée or dessert? Dessert hopefully.

      I have little time to think as it attacks, a quick jab of its head towards me.

      I rock to the side, sending my two blades towards its mouth. But it backs away, sensing my attack.

      “Cassandra: side. Varric: eyes. Dorian: legs,” I yell.

      As the dragon rushes towards me again, I run towards it too, not bothering to see if the others understood me. I can see the dragon’s jaws open, but just before they snap down, I dive through its legs, skidding along the pebbly ground.

      It desperately tries to turn to catch me, but it’s too slow.

      I’m on my stomach, its tail thrashing around above my head. Scrambling to my feet, Cassandra gives me an extra push up before she sinks her sword into the dragon’s already wounded side.

      It gives a scream of pain, its head snapping towards us as it spins around.

      A bolt embeds itself its neck, though not deep enough to wound it.

      “Balls!” yells Varric. “Stop moving.”

      But before I can even comprehend what’s going on, the Archdemon roars and _charges_.

      Straight towards Varric.

      He’s standing on a broken pillar, the height giving him extra accuracy.

      I hear Cassandra gasp as the dragon smashes into the pillar, sending gravel, dirt and stone everywhere.

      But I can’t see Varric.

      “Dorian!” I scream as I rush towards the dragon.

      Twin bolts of ice rush past me, shooting straight through the dragon’s hind legs. Its whole body drops as its back legs give out. It snaps at something in the rubble, but it’s struggling to move now.

      I drive my blades into the dragon’s tail as it sweeps past me and the dragon roars, distracted. Its claws dig into the ground, sending sprays of dirt towards me.

      But Cassandra’s rushing towards the toppled pillar, blind with fear.

      “Cassandra! It can still hurt you,” I say, moving after her, forgetting about the dragon.

      Cassandra’s crawling through the stone and rubble, searching. It’s the only time she’s ever let her guard down in a fight. The only time she’s let her emotions get the better of her.

      “Varric!” she screams. “Andraste guide me… Where are you?”

      And she doesn’t notice the dragon lurch towards her, its neck whipping out.

      My fingers wrap around a stone and I launch it at the dragon, hitting it in the side of the face. It jerks back and Dorian leaps onto its back, “Lydia, now!”

      I snap into action, leaving Cassandra to search for Varric.

      Using its paw for leverage, I volt onto the Archdemon’s neck, wrapping a hand around one of its massive horns.

      “Together,” I say.

      Dorian nods, sending his staff into the dragon’s back. It arches, sending a roar into the darkened sky.

      Ice crackles around Dorian’s staff and into the dragon’s flesh and I send my blades into the dragon’s eyes. But it thrashes around, trying to throw us off its back.

      Dorian holds tight, his staff embedded into the dragon’s flesh.

      But I can’t hold onto its horns any longer.

      My boot slips on a scale and my hand slides from its grasp on the dragon’s horn. I tumble over the dragon’s head, heading straight for the hard ground.

      My eyes shut, ready for the impact.

      But someone catches me in strong arms and my eyes snap open to see Cassandra. She smiles at me before letting me get to my feet.

      I see Varric, bruised and battered, but otherwise looking alright.

      Cassandra squares up to the injured Archdemon, sword grasped in both hands. Her eyes burn with fire. With revenge for hurting her lover.

      The Archdemon turns to us, mustering its last of its strength. Blind and injured, it can probably smell us.

      Dorian stays on its back, “You better hurry up and kill it, my hair is getting all tangled riding this thing!”

      The beast gives us a growl from the back of its throat and in a split second it opens its mouth, neck whipping forward to chomp down on us.

      But with a ferocious battle cry, Cassandra lunges towards the beast, sending her sword straight through its open mouth, the blade driving up and out of its nostrils.

      The dragon jerks, sending Dorian stumbling. It roars to the sky before falling back to the ground with a thud, its head hitting the hard rock.

      And it begins to glow. Something red travels up its throat and out of its mouth. A red orb of magic. It travels away from the dragon and I watch it as it hovers towards the top of the floating city. To Corypheus.

      He rises from the battlements, the red magic wrapping around his body. He must have been knocked out from when the Morrigan and the Archdemon smashed into the floating city.

      A slender hand rises towards the sky, orb clutched in his hand, “Let it end here! Let the skies boil. Let the world be rent asunder.”

      I begin moving towards his position on top of the city—on top of the world. But I hesitate, turning back to Morrigan’s body.

      She’s conscious, yet hardly awake.

      “We can come back for her,” says Cassandra. “Corypheus is our main concern.”

      I blink, nodding.

      She squeezes my hand, “This ends for Corypheus. We will be victorious.”

      I nod again, glancing over my team, “Let’s do this. Together until the end.”

      “And may the Maker guide us.”

      Moving up the stairs, I try to keep my fingers from shaking. This may be it. This may be the last fight. But for who?

      Corypheus?

      Or me?

      I take the last set of stairs two at a time, the others hot behind my heels. As long as we work as a team, like we always do, we’ll be fine… hopefully.

      We’ve come this far, I’m not planning on failing now.

      The walkway drops off and in front of us is a massive plateau, surrounded with a small set of stairs. Broken pillars are set into the four corners of the stone platform, once holding up a ceiling. Now they seem to hold up the sky. The Breach is above us, swirling unmercifully, ready to swallow the world.

      And Corypheus stands in the centre of the platform, grinning wickedly.

      If I’m right, this was where the Divine was held when I came barging in at the Conclave. This is where it all started. This is where I got my power, cursed or good.

      We leap down the drop, headed towards Corypheus.

      But the Breach seems to jerk, green lightning spewing from its swirling maw. And then it occurs to me, “The Breach is getting bigger!”

      “It will endanger the world!” yells Cassandra. “We must stop this.” She looks at me, sending a firm look of encouragement my way.

      I spin to Corypheus when his laugh echoes across the top of the city. He teleports right beside me and I only just manage to deflect his punch with my blade.

      In a blink of an eye, he’s over on the other side of the plateau.

      Another hard fight. And I know the others are already tired.  My own arms feel like lead and I can hardly hold my blades up anymore.

      Cassandra rushes towards Corypheus, her blade a blur as she peppers him with attacks. But they hardly touch Corypheus.

      The others attack as well, yet I know it’s no use. Corypheus just teleports to different corners of the platform, grinning each time.

      He’s wearing us down and he’s succeeding.

      Cassandra bears her teeth, “Face us creature!”

      He turns to Cassandra, “You will bow to me, mortal!”

      I sprint towards him, hoping Cassandra can keep him distracted long enough so I can attack. I use a boulder to propel myself into the air, sending my whole body twisting through the air. My blades slice towards Corypheus, cutting across his back.

      He roars in pain, teleporting away from us.

      “A mistake,” he bellows. “That is what you are.”

      I glare at him, “I think you’re the mistake Corypheus. Or should I call you Sethius Amladaris? You and six other Tevinter magisters made a trip to the Fade many years ago… but all you saw was an empty throne and the Blight.”

      He stops, fingers clenched together.

      But I continue, “You began that trip as human. But you returned as the first darkspawn.”

      He growls.

      “If that’s not a mistake, then I don’t know what is.”

      Dorian had figured out Corypheus’ past. Josephine had to pull a lot of favours, but we had gotten the information we needed. And it may do the trick now. All I have to do is anger him so he’s not thinking right.

      “How dare you claim I am a mistake,” he yells. “You are a gnat, stealing the powers of something you cannot even comprehend.”

      “At least I didn’t turn out ugly.”

      He roars again, “Enough!” And his hands glow red.

      I hardly have enough time to move as an explosion pulses out towards us.

      I’m blown backwards, my back hitting a pillar.

      Somethings cracks in my chest and I let out a scream of pain. Even breathing is difficult. I clutch my side, curled up on the ground.

      My ribs. I’ve broken a rib.

      Vision blurry, I try to move, but my body protests. How can I defeat Corypheus when I can’t even breathe?

      I rub my head, glancing around. Corypheus is breathing heavily, slumped over in order to get his breath.

      Now, now I can attack.

      But the others. Where are they?

      My head whips around trying to find them. The haze and dust makes it difficult to see five feet in front of me.

      There… at the corner of the floating city. They seem dazed, but fine. Thank the Maker. I don’t know how Corypheus managed to make that explosion—it was always like the one at the Conclave, though not as big.

      Cassandra gets to her feet, helping Varric up. But a crack fills the air and she stiffens, not daring to move. Corypheus is still trying to get his breath back, a red barrier protecting him from any attacks.

      My eyes shift back to the others.

      If Corypheus didn’t make that noise, then what did?

      No…

      The crack… I can see it snake its way along the rock, right where my friends are, cutting across the corner.

      Cassandra’s eyes meet mine, hand grasping Varric’s.

      I can see the fear in her eyes.

      Dorian takes one look at the growing fissure, hands grasping for his staff lying on the ground metres away from them.

      And I’m running towards them… I need to reach them.

      But as Cassandra holds out her hand, they drop away, Cassandra’s fingers brushing against mine. And they plunge into the abyss, straight for the temple below. 

There’s nothing I can do to save them.

      Mother always said it’s not the fall that kills you, but the landing.

      The scream that tears from my mouth is enough to make the world stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Sorry for the cliff hanger (quite literally, amirite?) The fight for Thedas continues, and let's hope Lydia can save the others! Oh the feels :D Stay groovy my children.


	83. Chapter 82

I wish the world had stopped. I would have been able to save them. My friends… they had become my family. And I couldn’t even save them.

      The scream tears from my throat and I’m kneeling at the edge of the floating land mass, hand still out stretched.

      I don’t know why I’m still holding it out. It’s not like I can catch them.

      Cassandra’s hazel eyes stay on mine as she falls, a silent scream on the edge of her lips, Varric and Dorian beside her.

      “No!” I yell, the only word my lips can form. A pathetic word—the only thing I can manage to say when my friends are falling to their deaths.

      My blood roars so loudly in my ears it actually sounds like a dragon. Like the Archdemon we just faced.

      My whole body is numb and I can’t even feel my broken rib anymore. It seems as though my very heart has been ripped from my chest. And so what if it is? What’s the point in living, if the others aren’t living with me?

      Cassandra and I were supposed to train this afternoon. And Dorian was supposed to read with us tonight. And what of Wicked Grace? It was Varric’s turn to tell a story—a story of Hawke and her companions in Kirkwall.

      They’ll never do those things again. Cassandra will never feel the weight of her sword in her hands, Varric will ever pick out a quill to write and Dorian won’t ever get to say goodbye to Iron Bull.

      Three lives cut short, all because I couldn’t save them.

      My best friend lost to the abyss.

      And I curse myself, curse my life, curse the very heavens for making me a mistake.

      After everything we’ve been through… this is how it ends. I still remember the first time I met Cassandra, met her for her fury and vengeance. And Varric… who was cracking jokes just to lighten the mood. Dorian may have been a later recruit, yet getting sucked into that dark future was a blow to my sanity. But Dorian was there to help and he has been there since.

      They’re good people… why must they suffer?

      Why must the Maker curse them, just for trying to save the world?

      Wind whips around my face and I can hear the snap of leathery wings. Has the Archdemon risen to finish me off?

      So be it.

      I’ll be with my friends.

      But something large shoots past me, a growl coming from its mouth.

      My eyes snap open, which I didn’t know I had closed and I see a purple dragon soar towards my friends.

      Its talons are out stretched, body tight so it can stream line. Why did it just fly right past me? The others are dead anyway.

      But I see the wound curved across the dragon’s abdomen and the feathers sprouting out the end of its tail.

      It’s not the Archdemon.

      It’s Morrigan.

      She’s conscious… and she’s managed to shapeshift again.

      I can hear the strained roar that comes from her mouth. But she’s flying straight towards my friends…

      Maker, please save them.

      But something grabs me by the shoulder, ripping me away from the edge. Long fingers curl around my neck as Corypheus brings me to face him. My feet dangle uselessly above the ground. Though his hold isn’t choking, I’m struggling to steady my breathing, especially with this cursed rib.

      “Fool! Your friends are your weakness,” yells Corypheus. “You show too much compassion for them. That will be your downfall.”

      He throws me away, sending me sprawling across the stone platform. One sword clatters from my grasp, but I manage to keep hold of the other. Corypheus teleports next to me and I roll from the spike of red Lyrium he summons from the ground.

      “You are weak,” he bellows. “And you will watch your friends die. All of them.”

      I scream, sending a punch towards him, but he just rocks back. My fist flies past him, missing completely. Corypheus’ own hand flies up, fingers wrapping around my fist. The move nearly jerks my shoulder out of its socket.

      I try to tug free, but he holds tight, not letting go. My back hits a cold pillar and I’m trapped in his grasp.

      He just laughs at me, “You are pathetic.”

      He lets go of my fist, shoving me into the pillar. Pain shoots through my chest and I gasp for air, clutching my ribs. My hand whips towards Corypheus, dagger clasped between my fingers, but with inhuman speed he slaps the weapon from my hand. Something flashes in the green light of the Breach and I realise he’s holding my other dagger.

      Before I can comprehend what he’s about to do, I see the blade drive into my left shoulder. I can feel it rip through muscle and bone, the searing pain too much to bear.

      I scream, the wave of pain rolling across my entire body.

      And tears roll down my cheek as Corypheus towers over me, dagger still in his hand. The blade has sunk all the way into my flesh and I can feel the point sticking out of my shoulder blade.

      I can’t help my sobs as I begin to shake. My fingers scrabble uselessly at Corypheus’ hand, but his eyes are wild with pleasure. My blood drips between his fingers… so much blood, seeping from me.

      Corypheus laughs, “You’re death will be the slowest. I will enjoy breaking you. Just as I will do to your friends. They will see your body, see how you failed them. And then they will die. Seeker Pentaghast, Commander Cullen… everyone you love will die.”

      I grit my teeth, “You will never hurt my friends. You won’t get the chance to hurt them.” It’s a useless threat, he knows. I’m trapped he at his mercy. But I have to try.

      But an image flashes before my eyes—my vision. They were all dead, Cassandra’s lifeless eyes staring up at me. I can’t let that happen—won’t let that happen.

      Corypheus growls, tightening his grip on the dagger. And with a blink of an eye, his yanks the dagger from my shoulder, blood spurting from the wound. Another cry tears from my throat, echoing across the floating city.

      Another wave of pain shoots through me and my mark sparks up, a flash of green blinding me for a second.

      Corypheus stumbles back from the light, dropping the dagger. And I see my chance. But Corypheus spreads his hands wide, sending a wave of red magic towards me.

      It lifts me into the air, sending me backwards. My shoulder hits the pillar and I’m sent spinning out of control, smashing to the rocky ground on my stomach.

      My whole body aches, pain throbbing in every limb. My sobs wrack through my body and Corypheus stalks closer to me.

      A glint on the ground turns my attention and I see my dagger lying next to me. I scoop it up, getting to my feet as quick as I can.

      I grit my teeth through the pain and through the tears. He doesn’t deserve to see me cry. If I can just destroy him… then it wouldn’t matter what happens to me. If I can save the world, my mission will be complete.

      Maker, guide my hand…

      I shoot towards Corypheus and he tries to send a bolt of magic towards me, but I dodge it with surprising ease.

      And scooping my other dagger off the ground, the reassurance of two weapons is enough to boost my confidence.

      I can do this.

      Holding up my mark, I concentrate the last of my power into the palm of my hand, sending a tingling feeling through my palm.

      Corypheus’ eyes grow wide and he opens his mouth, but whatever he says is drained out by the clap of thunder as a Rift opens in front of him.

      Instantly I feel the energy drain from my body and I can hardly stand up right, let alone continue to run. My mark pulses, green veins spreading up to my elbow and I have to clench my fist to ease the pain.

      But I don’t feel sick… something usual. And the vision hasn’t returned.

      A green bolt of lightning whips out from the Rift, striking Corypheus right in the chest. He’s knocked backwards, but quickly scrambles to his feet. And I continue to run at him, mustering my energy.

      Green tendrils sprout from the Rift, wrapping around him, pinning him to the spot. He struggles to get free as the tendrils pulse. They don’t pull him into the Rift like usual, instead they seem to be sucking the very power from him.

      His eyes glow red, heating up along his body. And the tendrils explode, freeing him.

      But he’s wounded—burn marks wrap around his body from where the tendrils touched his skin. And he’s angry. He roars at me, but can hardly stand. It’s a desperate attempt to scare me. But I can’t be scared anymore.

      And I leap into the air right above him two daggers poised above my head. He doesn’t have time to teleport as I descent on him, driving one of my daggers through his chest. The other one slashes across his neck, but it’s not deep enough to kill him instantly. Or maybe it’s because he’s an immortal god.

      He yells in pain and I stumble away from him, my daggers dripping with dark purple blood. I can feel my own blood dripping down my shoulder and the glowing green veins in my arm is a slight concern.

      Corypheus takes a step back, desperately throwing his hands into the air. The red orbs hovers above his head and the magister’s eyes glow red.

      He grunts in pain as he sends a pulse of magic towards me, channeling the remaining power from the orb. But the orb seems to be malfunctioning.

      Wind whips around me, blowing my hair, but it’s not a powerful attack.

      I’m clutching my stomach, my breathing loud in my ears.

      “Not like this!” he yells, the purple blood dripping from his wounds on the ground. He holds the orb, trying to stop its uncontrollable sparking magic. It’s going to break. “I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages…”

      And my mark lights up again, sparking up through those green veins. His back is to me, he isn’t concerned about me.

      “Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!” He’s struggling to stop the orb. And an idea comes to mind. I hold out my hand.                                                                           

      “If you exist—if you ever truly existed—aid me now!”

      And the orb begins to glow green, fighting against the corrupt red magic. But Corypheus tries to use the orb against me, to try and stop me, but it just back fires.

      Instead of shooting a bolt of magic at me, the orb’s attack hits Corypheus square in the face. The orb flies into my hand, glowing green now.

      It hovers in my palm as Corypheus collapses to his knees, not a single words coming from his mouth.

      The orb… it will give me the extra power I need to close the growing Breach.

      So I throw my hand into the air, sending green light soaring up into the Breach. Lightning pulses across the sky, spending the whole sky into a green field. The last of the orb’s power is sucked away and the green light from my mark cuts off. The clouds around the Breach swirl and I can see the sky begin to brighten in sunlight, the Breach slowly growing smaller.

      I drop the orb and it hits the ground with a _clang_ , useless now without its power.

      Some rocks fall beside me from the towering pillars, but I walk towards Corypheus, stopping just in front of his broken body.

      My mark glows as I hold my hand to his face, veins pulsing green, “You wanted into the Fade?” The mark glows, sending a green bolt into his mouth. His whole body convulses as his skin begins to turn green. He explodes in a flash of green, body disintegrating and then disappears, sent into the Fade to rot forever.

      Nausea creeps up through my stomach, but I hardly have time to calm myself before the floating city begins to break apart.

      Boulders begin to fall around me, slamming into the ground. I have to dodge a massive piece of the ruined castle as it falls towards me.

      And the rocks that were floating around the Breach begin to rain down on me.

      I’m running, but I don’t know where to. I’m stuck on this piece of floating land and the only way to safety is down.

      My daggers are lost in the chaos of falling rocks and I’m not going back to find them. I’ll just have to forge new ones.

      The next thing I know, the whole city is beginning to drop, the magic once holding it up now gone. And my stomach is in my mouth as the ground drops from under my feet.

      Just luck the others… but perhaps Morrigan saved them in time.

      And the only thing I can do is scream as the whole city comes crashing down.

 

.

.

.

.

 

My eyelids are too heavy to open, but I can feel someone’s chest against my side. They’re carrying me. But who? What happened?

      Am I in the Fade?

      I crack my eyes open, not fully, but enough to take in my surroundings.

      My hand is glowing green, the in my forearm permanently green. They remind me of the tattoos Dalish elves paint on their faces.

      I turn my head slightly and see Solas, carrying me.

      His face is taut with… guilt… loss?

      “Solas?” my voice is croaky and soft. I don’t know if he heard me or not. In one of his hands is the orb, broken in two.

      “The orb…” I whisper. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

      He looks at me, surprised to find me awake, “It is not your fault… it was not supposed to happen this way.”

      Happen what way? How was it meant to happen? My head is still muddled. Where are we?

      Solas looks away, still carrying me, “No matter what comes, I want you to know you shall always have my respect. I’ve healed what I can… the rest is up to you.”

      “Solas? What… what are you talking about?”

      He sets me down gently on the ground, right below a crumbling archway. The floating city… it’s not floating anymore.

      “You will be fine, Lydia. Just look after that shoulder wound.”

      I feel as though my head’s been stuffed with cotton. Nothing is sounding right and nothing that Solas is saying makes any sense.

      But my vision begins to blacken again and the pull of darkness is too strong.

      “Solas…”

      He just looks at me sadly as my eyes begin to close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CORYPHEUS IS GONE! Ding dong the witch is dead! Yay! Still a few more chapters to go, but we certainly are wrapping things up now!


	84. Chapter 83

I can hear voices all around me, frantic, desperate. But I’m anchored somehow, something keeping me to the ground, yet, I feel as though I could fly. Perhaps this is what it feels like when you die, a weightless feeling to your whole body… a protective layer around you, like a mother’s hug. I’m warm… not cold as I thought death would be.

      I can hear sobbing. Do people sob in the Fade? Is that possible?

      I thought the lost souls wandered aimlessly for eternity. Maybe I’m where the tortured souls are, made to live out eternity regretting their actions. For me, perhaps it was the guilt of leaving Stroud in the Fade, or how I couldn’t save everyone from the horrors of war and demons.

      But the anchor around me tightens, like strong hands wrapping around my body. Not the anchor—the mark on my hand—no, this is something different.

      I’m so sleepy though. I don’t want to move.

      Something holds my hand, fingers curling around my own. Warmth… I’m still warm.

      This cannot be the Fade, it’s too homely. Death is never welcomed like this…

      Where am I? Is this reality, or am I sleeping. My mind is too foggy to sort through my thoughts and when I focus on one memory, it all comes snapping back to me.

      Just like that, it hits me. Like waking up from a dream. Corypheus. I killed him, he disappeared right in front of my eyes. And… and… Solas, he had saved me from the falling city. He had healed me, he said. He had carried me somewhere. Or was that a dream—was that something he wanted me to believe?

      Where am I?

      Please Maker, don’t let me die before saying goodbye to my friends.

      My eyes open slowly and I can feel blood trickling down my lip.

      The sobbing, it’s louder now, like wails into the night sky. And something shakes around me. This is not the Fade.

      “Please… please don’t leave me…”

      That voice. That perfect, beautiful voice. She’s not dead. She survived the fall.

      It’s her protective embrace I’m enveloped in, her arms wrapped tightly around my body as she holds me, kneeling on the ground. My arms dangle at my sides, fingers grazing against the ground.

      My eyes are hardly open, but I can see the devastation of the falling city. The already ruined city has been completely destroyed, the only remnants left are the massive blocks of stone and rock. The trees that were lifted into the air are now splintered and one trunk has embedded itself into the ground, poking out like a spear.

      My vision’s blurry, but I blink once, seeing the people surrounding us.

      My inner circle stand together and I can feel another person’s body tucked into my side. Harding. She’s holding my hand, sobbing.

      And Cullen, held back by Krem and Bull, his cries of grief echoing across the temple. Tears runs down his cheeks and I can hear his pleads. But Krem’s telling him something about ‘healing’ and Bull has to tighten his grasp.

       I can feel the bandages wrapped around my shoulder and torso.

      They think I’m…

      “You promised me you would not leave… Maker, please…” Cassandra’s head is tucked into my neck, her cries shaking her whole body.

      I’ve only seen Cassandra cry once. The second time is almost too much. My stiff fingers twitch.

      “I intend to keep that promise,” I croak. Cassandra stiffens and pulls me gently back at arm’s length. She wipes the hair from my sweaty forehead and gasps. She pulls me into a quick hug then looks at me again.

      And she laughs, her eyes searching mine.

      But I’m alive and that’s all that matters. Thedas has been saved and Corypheus is dead. And I’m here with my best friends.

      “Lydia…” she breathes. “You did it, Andraste preserve me, you did it.”

      Harding’s arms wrap around me and Cassandra holds the two of us.

      And I’m crying from happiness. They all survived. Tears run down my cheeks, uncontrollable, but Cassandra wipes them away with her thumbs. Always the mother. I smile at her and I can see her whole body relax.

      Someone drops to their knees beside me and I turn my head to see Cullen, his eyes red. But he pulls me into a kiss, desperate and searching.

      When he pulls away he throws his arms around our tiny group, “Lydia… I love you.”

      “I love you too, Cullen. Never forget that,” I say, though my voice is still croaky.

      I can see others begin to walk over, coming to kneel with us and soon it’s a massive group hug. My inner circle stay close to me, but Harding isn’t letting go of my hand. And Cassandra’s not removing her arms from me.

      Which I don’t object.

      Their support is what got me through this whole mess. Without them, I wouldn’t be here—I’d be on the other side of Corypheus’ blade. Or I would’ve been dead a long time ago.

      Dorian and Bull hold hands, while Varric rubs Cassandra’s back. I can’t help but smile for them.

      Our massive group hug is a mess of bodies pressed together, but we’re all comforted by one each other. And I don’t ever want to leave.

      Looking to the heavens, night has fallen, stars shining in the cloudless sky. A green aurora sways across the night sky, lighting up where the Breach had opened—and where we had closed it.

      I squeeze Cassandra tighter, not letting her go.

      But there’s someone missing.

      Solas.

      He had tried to heal me… I remember. He carried me to safety when the city fell. But where was he now? Looking around, I try to find him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he just needed some space. And the orb? He must have taken that with him. Where ever he is.

      But, I’ll get Leliana onto him later. If anyone can find Solas, it’s Leliana.

      I spot Morrigan standing at the edge of our group hug, smiling softly. Her hand covers the wound on her stomach, but she seems to be in a stable condition.

      “Victorious, I see,” she says. “What a novel result.”

      I wipe the rest of my tears away as the others begin to stand. Cullen extends a hand to me and I take it gently. He pulls me to my feet, an arm wrapping around my waist to support me. My legs feel like jelly and it takes me a few seconds to gain my balance.

      “And it seems the Breach is finally closed,” continues Morrigan.

      I nod, “It looks that way.” My voice is still croaky and I have to cough violently to clear my chest.

      I must have gotten pretty knocked up.

      “What do we do now?” asks Cassandra. For the first time she seems at a complete loss. But she’s right, what is there to do? What the Inquisition set out to achieve has been done.

      I glance at the archway Solas placed me under. He’s not there. But he may come back later, who knows what he’s thinking.

      I frown in thought. I guess the Inquisition still has a purpose: protecting Thedas from whatever else decides to try and destroy the world. Whatever comes our way, I’m sure we’ll be ready.

      “We go back to Skyhold,” I say. “Is… is anyone up for chocolate cake?”

      Cassandra lets out a breathy laugh, “Anything, Lydia.”

     

+++

 

Our walk back to Skyhold is held in high spirits. Inquisition soldiers dance around each other, hooting and yelling at our success.

      We did lose a few good people in the battle, I’ve been told. But not heavy loses. My inner circle explain to us what had happened when the city started to float into the sky.

      Demons had appeared from everywhere, but luckily they were all ready. They could hear us fighting Corypheus from high above the clouds and even glimpsed Morrigan and the Archdemon flying through the skies.

      Cullen walks close to me, “We had heard a scream and when I looked up… I could see these things falling from the sky.” His brow furrows. “And I felt helpless as they fell.”

      I swallow back the lump in my throat, “I couldn’t do anything to help them.”

      A hand wraps my own and I see Cassandra’s hazel eyes on mine, “Do not blame yourself. I know that look, Lydia.”

      “I couldn’t save you.” It’s a whisper.

      “You did not have to. Morrigan caught us.”

      My eyes flick to the mage, “Thank you Morrigan.”

      “I am sure everyone here would have done the same.”

      “What… what happened? I didn’t see you land.”

      “Morrigan dropped us from a much more… appropriate height before shifting back into her human form,” says Dorian, glancing at Morrigan. “Then I had to quickly heal her wound as best as I could as the demons began overrunning us.”

      “Except we were there to help them,” says Harding. “Because we’re amazing.”

      “Yeah, yeah. You have a better shot,” says Sera. “No need to rub it in.”

      Harding grins, “I’m glad you know it. I took down 20. What about you?”

      “Eh. I was a little tired. Only 15. But those tits didn’t even know what hit them,” says Sera.

      I smile, “I’m glad you could help the others.”

      Varric chuckles, “Stumbles, you did all you could. Don’t blame yourself. After all, it was a nice little fall from grace.”

      Cassandra rolls her eyes.

      “And Cassandra even held my hand in public.”

      “Ugh.”

      Dorian sends me a grin, “Yes. It was quite wonderful. I was left to fall by myself as those two love birds held hands. I saw the whole thing and was very proud.”

      “Well, they’ve already made love in a cupboard,” I say. “I’m sure holding hands in public is the least intimate thing they’ve done.”

      Harding lets out a laugh, “Not our conservative Seeker Cassandra here.”

      Cassandra just nudges Harding, “You two will be the death of me, I swear.”

      Bull rumbles a laugh, flashing a grin at me, “I’m just glad to have my drinking buddy back. How about some beer for breakfast again?”

      “Ah yes, like that morning after the Winter Palace,” I smirk. “Which was when Krem and Harding finally hooked up.”

      Harding chokes on her own spit.

      Bull laughs, “How did I know you were going to say that?”

      “Tomorrow morning Bull. We’ll drink all the beer you want.”

      “I like the sound of that.”

      Dorian smiles at me, but I see his eyes travel down my arm. And he stops walking, his eyes wide, “Lydia?”

      I stop in front of him, fear spiking, “Yes?”

      “Your… your arm.”

      I glance at it, seeing the green veins pulse underneath my skin—a permanent reminder of what happened. I glance at Cassandra before turning back to Dorian, “I… I opened another Rift. But this time, instead of falling ill, or having a vision, the mark seemed to spread.”

      Dorian purses his lips, hand holding my palm, “Your mark isn’t any bigger, yet your veins are… green. Not something you see every day. You’re not in pain are you?”

      I shake my head. Looking up, most of the army have gone, Skyhold just over the next hill. They’re all eager to get out of the cold. Leliana and Cullen have walked off, discussing something quietly. My inner circle stay close though, watching me in concern.

      “I will have to look into it. But I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about. Just think of it as a glowing tattoo.”

      “Great.”

      “At least it’s not on your butt,” says Harding.

      Sera cackles.

      I grin, “Always looking on the bright side, Harding.”

      But Cassandra’s looking at me, concerned, “If you do experience any pain, please do inform Dorian.”

      “I will, Cass. Don’t worry.”

      She squeezes my hand and Harding sends me an encouraging smile.

      More shouts and hoots echo across the mountains as we make the final walk across the stone passage connecting to Skyhold. Fires burn in large braziers and I can see the Inquisition banners flying high above the battlements. Celebrations have already started, it seems.

      I lead my inner circle into Skyhold, but the breath leaves my lungs as I walk through the gates.

      Surrounding the cobbled walkway are the merchants, the refugees, the healers, the stable boys, the Inquisition soldiers and scouts, the pilgrims and the priests.

      They clap for us, smiling and laughing as we walk through the gates, coming home after the battle—the final battle.

      The smile on my face is enough to tell them how much I appreciate their support. I can even see Cassandra blushing as she walks close behind me.

      As I climb the stairs slowly, I spot my three advisors on the landing above me, grinning like maniacs. Even Leliana is smiling, which is quite something.

      The crowd screams my name and I give them a thumbs ups, awkward as ever. Someone even waves at me.

      I meet the advisors on the stairs, where everyone watches from below.

      My hands are shaking and my foot trips on the last stair. Cullen, Josephine and Leliana lunge towards me. Their strong arms catch me before I slam into the ground. The crowd gasps collectively, but I flash them a smile to tell them I’m fine. Cassandra watches me in horror, probably wondering how I managed to get so clumsy. And how I managed to survive this long. It’s a mystery to me as well.

      Once I compose myself from my fall, my three advisors take a step back, smiling at me. And they bow to me, a gesture of congratulations. I grin at them.

      Once they straighten, Cullen watches me for a few seconds before wrapping me into a tight hug. I melt into his arms, face pressed against his armoured shoulder.

      Josephine and Leliana hold hands, smiling at me.

      And when we pull away, the four of us stand at the edge of the landing, watching the people down below. Warmth blooms in my stomach and I don’t think the smile will disappear anytime soon.

      “Who’s up for a celebration?” I ask.

      And the crowd goes wild.

 

+++

 

Sera and I skip around the keep, singing one of Maryden’s brighter songs. We giggle at each other, while others around us clap and sing along.

      Dinner was excellent, thanks to Josephine’s quick organizing. And the now the endless drinks are more than enough to celebrate our success.

      But Maryden’s song finishes and Sera grins at me, “See you soon for Wicked Grace, yeah? And maybe a cookie?”

      “Sounds good Sera.”

      She bounds off to find Bull, who’s already had a few more than ten drinks. Nothing a Qunari can’t handle.

      I make my way to the edge of the keep, to grab a drink of cool water. My throat is still parched after the fight and with all that singing, it’s gotten worse. The keep itself has its doors open wide, the night air spilling in. But we couldn’t fit everyone inside, so the celebrations extend out to the tavern and the gardens. The dragon head Bull managed to hang sits on the wall in front of me, its lifeless eyes staring at me. Firelight from the braziers and candles spill over its scales, casting shadows across it.

      I look away. I can’t imagine how lifeless I looked when Cassandra found me. She had told me that when the city fell, they all had to run for cover. When the dust finally settled and everyone was accounted for, they went searching for me. They had all feared the worse. And when Cassandra spotted my body lying underneath the broken archway, she thought I was dead. Harding had helped her bandage my shoulder wound—as Solas’ magic could only do so much. When I didn’t wake up, the two had thought I was dead. Then the others found them… And I finally woke up.

      I take a sip of my drink, trying not to dwell on my near death experience. I’ve had plenty, who’s to say this one was the worse?

      “My lady,” comes a voice. “A moment?”

      I turn to see Leliana, her hooded face not revealing anything. Nodding, I swallow my mouthful, “Anything, Leliana.”

      She walks with me as we move outside, standing at the top of the stairs. The night air is cool on my face, but I like it.

      Leliana looks at me, “My agents have found no trace of Solas. He has simply vanished. If he does not wish to be found, there’s nothing we can do. But I will keep looking.”

      I nod, “Thank you Leliana. I know… he may not want to be found, but why? Why would he just leave? Something must be wrong. He saved me from the falling city. I just want to thank him.”

      During dinner, I told everyone what happened on the floating city, how Corypheus stabbed me in the shoulder, how I opened a Rift and the green veins appeared up my arm. Then, with a little more excitement, I told them how I defeated Corypheus and that he just disappeared. I explained how the orb had helped me to close the Breach and what I remembered from my conversation with Solas, before he left me.

      “You said he was upset about the orb,” she says.

      “That can’t be the only reason,” I say.

      Leliana nods, but doesn’t push the subject. I know she’ll tell me if any news comes to her. As we walk back inside, she smiles, “Now that Corypheus has been defeated, we have a moment to stop and celebrate. Afterwards you will be busy. Every noble in southern Thedas is clamoring to meet you.”

      I blink, “The fighting’s over. Why do they want to meet me now?”

      Leliana chuckles, “You’re joking, yes?”

      “No.”

      “They wish to bask in the glory of your victory, hoping that some of it will rub off on them. Everyone knows Empress Celene owes you her life. And her throne. A thousand problems remain and your opinion will be sought on each one—whether you wish to give it or not.”

      “Oh,” I grin. “ _Now_ they’re lining up to meet me.”

      “Such is the way of things. Previously, you were an upstart, nothing more than a leader of rebels and heretics. Until Corypheus revealed himself, they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. Once he did, they knew: a magister and a darkspawn in one creature. The ultimate evil.”

      I frown. He truly was the worst Thedas has ever seen.

      “Now you are the only power left standing.” Leliana squeezes my shoulder gently, “Enjoy the evening while you can, Inquisitor.”

      “And you, Leliana.”

      I don’t say how it could be her last party with us, considering the Divine election will be soon. But I don’t want to think about that now. Not when I’m surrounded by my best friends and the people I love.

      Cullen catches my eye, standing by himself as he watches over everyone. I waltz over to him, snaking an arm through his.

      He smiles gently at me, “Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?”

      “We have a moment,” I say, grinning.

      He laughs softly, “I think you’re right. You brought us here. You are proof that the Inquisition made a difference. That we will continue to do so.”

      “Our soldiers put their trust in you, Cullen. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

      “I should be thanking you. You gave me a chance to… prove myself. In your place, I’m not sure I would have done the same.”

      I smile.

      “I should let you… mingle. I’m sure everyone desires your attention. As much as I might want it for myself.” The last sentence sends a shiver down my spine.

      Kissing him on the forehead, I nod, “Maybe later.”

      He blushes, “Go. I’m sure Cassandra and Lace have much gossip.”

      “Cassandra? A gossiper? Never,” but I grin at him as I walk away. He gives me a quirk of his lips before moving off to chat with some of his soldiers.

      Blackwall smiles at me from his position against the wall. He’s telling others about his Grey Warden adventures. Cole stands beside the warrior, head bowed, but I can tell he’s listening to the story. He even smiles softly. When he looks up at me, he bows his head and I send him a smile. He’s a good kid.

      Iron Bull and Dorian strut over to me, tankards in hand.

      Bull can’t help but laugh, “So… demons, dragons. Giant asshole Vint on a big magic rock? You don’t let it get dull, boss. Good stuff.”

      “You helped make it possible, Bull. Without you as I drinking buddy, life would have gotten dull pretty quickly.”

      “That’s what they pay me for.”

      “Oh please,” says Dorian.

      “It’s weird. I joined the Inquisition under orders from the Ben-Hassrath and stayed because Corypheus was an asshole. Now that it’s done, I’ve got no orders. For the first time in my life, I can go wherever I want.”

      “You know I’ll find you the best fights,” I say with a grin.

      “I know, I know,” he says. “Anyway, the only place I’m going tonight is back for more drinks.”

      Dorian blinks, “So don’t worry about me.”

      Bull laughs slowly, “Oh I’m sure I’ll make time for you tonight.”

      Dorian just sends me a look, “You know, I was coming down from my chambers after taking a bath tonight and I serving girl saw me and squealed. Actually squealed. Dropped her laundry and everything. Such a mess. She was completely breathless. ‘You were at the battle with the Evil One, weren’t you!’ I didn’t’ even get a chance to answer. She hugged me. _Hugged_ me. This is you influence.”

      I laugh, “That’s what happens when you’re a hero.”

      “Is that so? Must be why it’s so unfamiliar. Mind you, I can’t say I hate the notion of being ‘The Good Tevinter’. ‘I suppose you can’t all be evil bastards’. The blacksmith said that and he spat when we first met.”

      “Charming,” I say.

      “I hope my father hears. He will shit his smallclothes from shock, I swear.”

      “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Dorian. For healing Cassandra, for helping me through the dark future. For being there for me.”

      He nods, moustache twitching with his smile, “It was a pleasure, Lydia. You should appreciate me.”

      I narrow my eyes.

      “Being appreciated is a nice change of pace, though,” he adds. “I’m also pleased to come out of it alive. I wasn’t expecting that.”

      “You thought you’d die?”

      Bull sends him a look.

      But Dorian keeps his eyes on me, “Didn’t you? The hero dies in all the best stories. Anything else just sounds so implausible.” He pauses, “I’ve decided to stay with the Inquisition. For now.”

      “You will?”

      “Tevinter lacks the presence of my best and only friend. It’ll keep.”

      I grin, “Not to mention Bull’s here.”

      “Of course.”

      Bull holds up his drink, “To us being alive and the bad guys not!” He takes a giant gulp of beer and swallows, “Ah! Anaan!”

      I hold up my hand in agreement, though I don’t have a drink to toast with.

      A hand wraps around my shoulders, “Finally got a party, yeah?” It’s Sera, drink sloshing in her hand. “A bit of fun for saving the world.”

      “Ah Sera, there’s my Wicked Grace partner,” says Bull.

      Sera grins, “You bet!” But she looks at me, “This party is the least Andraste’s Herald deserves for making things normal again. Except for, you know, everything ever again. I mean, is this for us or for Her? Or, you know, ‘Him’? Because I was there and I still don’t know what’s real.”

      “Couldn’t it be His will _and_ our effort? Perhaps miracles need a little help,” I suggest.

      “Well, what’s the frigging point of them, then? Ugh, you sound like a sister. I guess you’d know by this point. Seems like you did it right. Mostly. Still some things to do yet, right? Because I’m in no hurry to go back to… Val Royeaux, that’s where I was. You mind if people still stay around? For whatever?”

      “This is home, Sera. If you’ll have it.”

      She laughs, “Shut it, you. I cry, I’m punching everyone. Alright, enough of that. Is this a party of what? Raise ‘em for winning. And now for Wicked Grace.”

      Bull, Dorian and Sera set up for their game and I move on, glancing around the keep.

      There are quite a few people here tonight, celebrating our success. I can’t help but smile. I feel as though I’ve actually accomplished something.

      Josephine’s standing with a clip board in her hand, ticking off things from a list. She spots me, “Oh, I should never have hired new caterers so late.”

      “Leave it be, Josie!” comes Leliana’s voice from a table behind us. “Everything’s fine!”

      “It is not!” she says, but turns back to me. “I’m so sorry, nothing’s quite as it should be. Do you like the drinks? I’m not sure about them.”

      “The drinks are fine, Josephine. It’s been a wonderful evening,” I say.

      “I hope you’re not just saying that. You’re not, are you?” She just sighs, “What a disaster. The sommelier was late, we hardly had any food to prepare and… and…” She shakes her head. “It was so wonderful to prepare for a small banquet instead of the end of the world. Do you know what everyone is talking about tonight, from commoners to kings? Us! Thedas is discussing the success of the Inquisition.”

      “You played no small part in out rise to power,” I say.

      She laughs, “You had a role yourself, if I recall correctly. Truly we will never forget those we lost, but for tonight… to victory.”

      I grin, “To victory.”

      “And for whatever else comes our way, we will sure tackle it head on,” her eyes meet mine and I can see the unspoken words. The Divine election.

      “We’ll deal with the future when it comes. For tonight, enjoy yourself. I do believe Leliana is waiting for you.”

      Josephine gives me a smile, “If you assist, Lydia.”

      “I do assist.”

      She nods, face turning red, “I think I can hear the Commander calling your name.”

      “And I do believe Leliana is calling yours,” I give her a wink.

      I leave Josephine to her lover and continue walking around the keep. I speak to others quickly as they thank me for everything I’ve done. I don’t even know who most of them are. Josephine must have invited anyone the Inquisition has helped. But it’s good to see who I’ve made allies with. Too bad the Empress couldn’t make it.

      Varric decides to join me and I feel honoured to have the dwarf walking beside me, “I’ve been starting to think about putting all this into a book.”

      I stare at him, “Really?”

      “I’m thinking: _This Shit Is Weird: The Inquisitor Trevelyan Story_. What do you think? It’s… a working title.”

      “I’m glad you’ve gone back to actual writing. I know how stressful _Swords & Shields_ was to write,” I say.

      “And that isn’t even finished. But, your book’s not certain until it’s in print. I mean, I could name the book _Stumbles_ if I wanted.”

      I laugh.

      “I still haven’t decided if I should do this book. As if anyone will believe this story if I tell it. Not to mention, I’ll have my hands full with reconstruction and relief efforts in the Free Marches as soon as I get back.”

      “You’re leaving, Varric? The… the Inquisition could still use you here. And what about Cassandra? I thought—”

      “Stumbles, it’s fine. Just for a holiday. It’s past time that I went back and took care of things in Kirkwall. But I will always come back to Skyhold. Don’t you worry. But hey, it’s probably going to be a while before I get my holiday, so we’ll have to play one last game of Wicked Grace. Curly needs to win back some of his dignity.”

      “Well, I wasn’t complaining about him losing those clothes.”

      “I bet you weren’t.” He grins, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back here before you know it.”

      “I do hope that is true,” comes a voice. Cassandra walks up beside me, holding a drink. Harding’s with her, a tankard in her own hand.

      Varric chuckles, “Of course Seeker. Anything for you. Now, if you excuse me, I have a game of Wicked Grace to win.” He steps past me, shoulder brushing Cassandra’s arm. But he hesitates, stopping just beside her. In a blink of an eye, he pulls Cassandra’s face down to his and plants a quick kiss on her lips.

      “I’ll see you later tonight, Cassandra.” And with that, he walks off.

      Cassandra’s blushing, but I can tell she’s trying not to.

      Harding’s wiggling her eyebrows at the Seeker and I’m grinning like a mad man.

      “Ugh. Will you two stop?”

      “It’s just so cute,” I say.

      “My heart can’t take it,” agrees Harding.

      Cassandra just scoffs, wrapping her arms around our shoulders. She leads us to the fireplace, where we sit together. A serving maid bring us a few drinks and we thank her, than proceed to gossip about everything and everyone.

      My two best friends… it’s amazing to think they both survived.

      “I can’t believe it’s over,” says Cassandra. “It seemed an impossible task: defy the Chantry, build the Inquisition from nothing, defeat a creature that would be a god…”

      “Ah, it was easy,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.

      “And here we are, celebrating.”

      “So we should be. Defeating Corypheus was no simple task.”

      “He was so confident of his power, he could not conceive of losing.”

      “If he could, he would never have challenged me,” I say with a grin.

      “And he would’ve gone into hiding. Yes, it worked out far better this way.”

      “I like it this way,” says Harding.

      “Even if I did nearly lose you both. To red Lyrium and to that Rift-infected bear,” I say. “Luckily we had the Maker on our side.”

      “It takes a lot more then those to take us down,” grins Harding.

      Cassandra smiles, “Yes. Much more.”

      We sit in silence for a few seconds.

      But Cassandra looks at the two of us, “I intend to rebuild the Seekers of Truth—to make us the Order we were meant to be.”

      The news is a shock, yet I smile, “Really? That’s great Cassandra.”

      “It will take time. Meanwhile, I am free to remain with the Inquisition.”

      The news makes me grin, “Good. I need my reading buddy. Plus, Harding still needs us to give her moral support as she reads the latest chapter of _Swords & Shields_.”

      “Yes please,” she grins.

      Cassandra chuckles, “I think back to how we first met… and here you stand. The Inquisitor. A symbol of hope and change to many. And Harding, a simple sheep herder… to Head Scout. And… you are my friends. How did that happen, I wonder?” Her eyes move to Harding, “I could not ask for anyone better than you two.”

      Harding grins at me, “If it’s any comfort, Lydia. I’m staying with the Inquisition as well. There’s just too much to do, even after Corypheus’ defeat.”

      I can feel the tears in my eyes—tears of happiness. But I wipe them away, “Promise me, both of you. That you will never leave me.”

      “If only you promise the same,” says Cassandra, holding out her hand. Harding and I grip her strong palm. “You two are great women. And I will always stand at your side.”

      “Forever?”

      “Forever.”

 

 

The night continues on, into the new day and even still, we party. My inner circle sit around me as I stand on the table, drink held high above me, “To us for not dying!”

      The others roar in agreement, drinks held high.

      I continue my toast, “To Harding! For falling off the rising piece of land in the first five minutes of the fight! If it wasn’t for you, that would have probably been me!”

      Harding reluctantly holds her drink up, but the others around her cheer, Bull the loudest. Krem kisses the Scout on the cheek.

      She smiles, “Just doing my job.”

      “And to the Inquisitor for showing Corypheus who’s boss!” yells Varric.

      The keep erupts into even more cheers.

     

+++

 

“The battle’s over. There will be a new Divine… yet I don’t care about anything other than you being alive,” says Cullen.

      We stand on my balcony, overlooking the mountains. Everyone had retired for the night and now, it’s just Cullen and I in the comfort of my chambers. The night sky is lit up with a green aurora, the same one that appeared when we closed the Breach. When Corypheus died.

      “Cullen…” I say, smiling at him.

       “I don’t know what happens after this.” He stands behind me, arms wrapping around my waist.

      “Neither do I.”

      I do, though. Leliana, Vivienne and Cassandra are up for election. And whoever is chosen must leave the Inquisition. But… I’ll think about that tomorrow. For now, I just want to think about Cullen.

      Cullen sighs into my hair and my own body arches into his.

      There is no place I’d rather be then here in the arms of my lover. Let the world bring its threats. We’ll face them with our heads held high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOohohHHH my god! The end my friends!! I hope you enjoyed the long chapter,, and all the fluffy goodness. There is just one more chapter to go, just tying everything together, but yes, we are at the end of this ride. If you are reading this, thank you for sticking around to the end, it means a lot to me!! But yes, stay tuned for who becomes the Divine and what happens next in Lydia's life! Stay groovy! 
> 
> In other news, there's a new DLC coming out soon for Dragon Age: Inquisition, which looks absolutely fantastic. If you haven't seen the trailer, I humbly beg you to watch it! It's truly amazing and I do believe it's the last one released for Inquisition, so go watch it! (And who knows, I may just have to write it as a sequel, because it looks that amazing!)


	85. Epilogue

 

I stand on the platform, overlooking the crowd. The red uniform I wear is similar to the one I wore at the Winter Palace, though it’s much prettier. The golden sash I wear represents my title as the Inquisitor, with my fur cloak resting on my shoulders. It’s clasped together with an Inquisition badge. My boots are knee high and polished, the black leather shining in the sun’s rays.

      The crowd whisper, all wait eagerly for the coronation of the next Divine.

      Chantry sisters and priests stand all around me, hands clasped together as the singing choir finishes their song. Val Royeaux is silent as the gates open. Chantry banners snap in the wind, erected around the town square. The Inquisition guards posted all around the city are alert as ever, hands on their weapons, ready if anyone tries to attack.

      I can’t see her yet, but the Divine will snake her way through the city, to the platform I stand on right now.

      And when she does, I think I might cry.

      We had defeated Corypheus, one month ago, a monster who had fought to bring back those days of magic and shadow. A monster who wanted to raise himself as a god, and to set things right. Instead, we are left if a scar in the sky to remind us of what almost was…

      A great victory against chaos was won, but left the world forever changed. And I hate to admit this to people, but it changed me too.

      I can hear cheers as she moves through the city, the clopping of horse’s hooves echoing against the pebble path. The Chantry decided to have the coronation in Val Royeaux because the usual Chantry the coronation is held in was ransacked by demons when a Fade Rift appeared inside it. I had closed it, but the destruction was too great.

      My hands shake as the crowd near me begins to shuffle, trying to catch a glimpse of the Divine. And I see her, sitting proudly on a golden horse, her robes fluttering in the air. The stallion she sits on is massive, its reins twirled with gold and its saddle etched with Inquisition and Chantry symbols. The horse’s mane has been braided, just like the little braid the Divine wears in her hair.

      A group of guards surround her, their horses trotting easily along beside her.

      Even some of the Empress’ own men guard the new Divine.

      Orlais, where once war raged, now has a shaky peace. The nation is resurgent, the Empress a patron of arts and culture. Briala, her lady love, may have contributed to the recovery, though I hear others whispering, wondering how long their reunion will truly last. But, Empress Celene’s gratitude towards the Inquisition has remained strong—though I don’t know if that’s beneficial for me or for her.

      And I can see the Divine’s face as she looks to me, a smile on her lips. She stops her horse gracefully, just in front of the stage. Her guards help her off her horse, but she can handle herself. My inner circle cheer for her at the edge of the crowd, just next to the stage. I made sure they stayed close to me.

      I spot Blackwall cheering amongst them.

      The Grey Wardens of the South have slowly been rebuilding in the months following the events of Adamant. Their help with the Inquisition had been great, but now, they declare it time to emerge from the shadows, to join in fighting their ancient foes. Rumors have fluttered into Skyhold, saying they severed ties with their leaders at Weisshaupt and a bitter war rages between them. What became of Hawke is unknown, much to Varric’s concern. All news out of Weisshaupt soon ended. I don’t know if there’s a battle within… or something far worse.

      But the Divine takes the stairs slowly as she makes her way towards me. Her head dress seems too big for her, but she wears it with beauty.

      She is the successor to the Sunburst Throne.

      She is Divine Victoria.

      But I will always call her Leliana. Spymaster, friend and an inspiration.

      I know her motives as Divine and they are quite well thought out. She will end the Circle of Magi, allowing mages to govern themselves. And she will open the priesthood to other races, along with declaring support for the Inquisition. But her most important stand is her new way of the Chantry. She will rededicate it to the principle of charity.

      She will be controversial from the start, I know this and many will declare her rule a threat to the faith. But I will stand beside her, no matter what.                                      

      Standing on the stage with me are Cassandra and Vivienne, the other two candidates for the Sunburst Throne. Cassandra grips my hand and I can see that she’s smiling, grateful that such a wonder woman has been crowned Divine. Vivienne smiles at me, giving me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

      Cullen and Josephine stand with Leliana as she makes her way onto the stage, the crowd cheering behind her.

      Josephine holds Leliana’s hand tightly, and I know the two will stay together.

      Leliana has arranged for them to stay in a relationship, even if Josephine is staying with the Inquisition. I know Leliana will visit whenever she’s free. I know they will stay strong, just like the Chantry.

      I spot Grand Enchanter Fiona in the crowd and she nods at me. They will be given a choice once Leliana speaks of disbanding the Circles. The rebel mages can either leave the Inquisition, reforming the College of Enchanters as a new order—with Vivienne’s occasional guidance. This will allow mages of the South to gather in peace and seek new solutions to age-old problems. Or they can stay with us, as allies, yet they won’t get as much freedom. I know what choice I’d make.

      Leliana bows to the crowd as Chantry sisters and priests gather around her, beginning their speeches.

      Lace Harding waves at me from the crowd, Krem beside her.

      I can’t help but smile, waving back to them.

      The Inquisition… now I must decide what happens when Leliana leaves her position as spymaster.

      Our military might has grown, rivaling that of kingdoms, thanks to Cullen’s work. But I know deep down, fear of our army has become the true source of our power. And that may not be a good thing. We will search for another spymaster, but for now, I know Harding and her scouts are doing a great job of organizing messages.

      Morrigan never came to the coronation, much to my dismay. She and Leliana were friends and it would have been nice to see them reunited after the battle with Corypheus, to catch up with one another. But the mage had left Skyhold days ago, for reasons I don’t know. Kieran was gone too, gone with his Mother. Morrigan was a great assest, gone now from the Inquisition. And with her, she takes the wisdom of the Well of Sorrows.

      Solas hadn’t returned in the last month and too be honest, I don’t think he will. But, I keep praying that I may just run into him, one day.

      But, as I stand in front of this crowd, one thing is for certain. This is a changing world order. Many people see me as a symbol of hope—for destroying Corypheus and bearing the mark of Andraste herself, even if that may not be so. But, the mark hasn’t grown any bigger since my fight with Corypheus—though the veins in my arm still pulse green.

      And I know people also see me as a target, lingering the shadows, waiting for their day to come. When it does, I will stand ready.

      A year ago, the world was torn asunder, with the Breach tearing the sky apart. A year ago, I had first met Cassandra and the others that had founded the Inquisition.

      Today, we stand as one, we stand as a force to be reckoned with.

      Leliana turns to me, “Inquisitor.”

      Cassandra, Vivienne and I bow to her and I can’t stop the smile spreading across my lips, “Divine Victoria. It’s good to see you again.”

      This world may be beautiful, yet it is also merciless. Whatever we face in the future, we face together.

      Until the end.

     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's finally finished! OOHhh my god! I can't believe it! Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and even just for reading! It turned out to be a lot longer then I first expected, as I do like to ramble on! But yes, I do hope you enjoyed the story and thank you to those who have stuck to it all the way til the end. 
> 
> It won't be the end of Lydia yet though, as I'll have a prompts story where I can add in a chapter every now and then. And if you want, you can give me prompts! But yes, until next time, stay safe. And stay groovy!


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